Void
by Sereneffect
Summary: Adjusting from being dead to suddenly being a live again is jarring, but even more so is seeing someone you mourned return. And yet the hardest is seeing how you both have changed. So, you must find a way to rely on one another for strength. Rated for violence, language, and mature situations. FemShepxGarrus. (New New Summary)
1. Chapter 1

**So I felt that the way Shepard's death was addressed overlooked a lot of the emotion and drama, especially after everything that had happened. This is just filling in the gaps.**

**I own nothing, regardless of how much I want Garrus.**

* * *

She heard the blast, felt the Normandy at her back, and then suddenly, there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of her respirator as she floated through—

Her respirator went silent and she gasped at the sudden lack of air. Panic gripped her exactly as she'd been trained to avoid as she scrambled for the air tubes off the back of her helmet. The hiss of escaping air, the sound that had been overwhelming moment before, went silent and tears pricked her eyes as she struggled to take in any oxygen.

To survive Virmire, and then the Battle of the Citadel—to face down both a Spectre and a Reaper—only to die of something so stupid as suffocation… The edges of her vision were going dark, and she reached lethargically for the debris of her beloved _Normandy_ as it drifted past her, toward the planet's surface.

Commander Shepard, hero of humanity and Council Spectre, had been taken down by an unknown threat and left to asphyxiate on the vacuum of the galaxy she loved. Cruel, almost, that the thing she'd saved was killing her.

Her lips parted to desperately draw her last breath, but none came. The end. Her vision darkened as her heart struggled to beat once, twice…

* * *

The news screens of the Citadel all lit up and a voice laced with urgency called out, "Attention, citizens of the Citadel! An urgent report has just been released regarding the first human Spectre, Commander Shepard."

Garrus's head jerked up from the datapads strewn across his desk at C-Sec, glancing toward the screen in his office. His mandibles twitched in a small smile, thinking how much he'd rather be on the _Normandy_ with her.

"This is Emily Wong, reporting for Galactic News." Something wasn't right. He remembered Wong, knew she was ambitious, but happy. The tightness of her jaw and waver in her voice drove him to his feet, moving to stand in front of the screen as she continued, "Moments ago, we at Galactic News received a devastating report. The SSV _Normandy_ has been attacked." Garrus saw her take a shaking breath and felt his heart lurch, silently begging her to tell him that everyone was alright. "Information is still coming in, but our initial reports show that the _Normandy_ was destroyed by an unprovoked attack by an unknown enemy. Most of the crew has been recovered from escape pods, but…" Garrus was holding his breath as she paused, struggling with the rest of the sentence. "But a few Alliance crew members, including Commander Shepard, are presumed dead. The Alliance will—"

Garrus didn't hear the rest of the report. The floor seemed to have fallen out from under him and the air had rushed form his lungs. Dead… No, impossible. A Reaper couldn't stop Shepard. This couldn't…. No, no, no. He shook his head violently and paced angrily across his office. It was a lie, it had to be. There was no way… He looked back to the screen as Emily Wong continued her grim report. A tear, barely visible to the camera, slid down her cheek as she recounted Shepard's brave actions against Saren, the geth, and Sovereign, and Garrus knew. He felt it, a chill just inside his ribs, and his hands began to shake. How… He'd left her for a few months. And she just went and died?! With a roar, his fist struck the wall beside the concluding news report, leaving a sizable dent in the metal. The doors slid open and he whirled on the intruder. Chellick held up his hands, cautiously taking a step inside.

"Everything alright, Vakarian?" he asked carefully.

Garrus could only stare, expression promising misfortune to someone—he hadn't decided who yet—and the smaller turian fled back to his own office as a rumble rose in Garrus's chest. It was low at first, threatening to anyone who might try to come near him, and rose to a pitch declaring his rage for all to hear, filling the empty space of his office. He wanted to yell, unleash some of his energy, kill something. He clenched his taloned hands into fists. No, not something; he wanted to kill whatever had attacked the _Normandy_.

He was out of his office, out of C-Sec, before he'd even realized it, storming through the halls of the Citadel. Crowds parted before him, people scrambling to avoid the enraged turian in C-Sec blues, and he was in the embassies before he knew what he wanted to do.

* * *

Councilor Anderson stood looking out over the Presidium Lake, hands clasped behind his back. The Alliance veteran's expression was blank, eyes not seeing the manicured Citadel beyond his balcony but some stretch of the galaxy far away, littered with the debris of her ship, her crew… her body. His heart sank a little. She'd put him in this position, put her trust in him to take care of humanity. Sure, he had accepted, but he was no politician. She knew it, claimed that they needed someone who had seen combat to balance the Council, and he had agreed. But now… He wanted to be out in space, out fighting the good fight. No, no, he needed to stay. She was right. He had to make sure humanity was taken into consideration, whether he liked it or not.

Anderson heard a rumble and briefly wondered if the Citadel was finally crumbling after the damage Sovereign had dealt it, but quickly dismissed the thought as footsteps reached his ears. Heavy steps, in a rush. The rumble grew louder, as the steps did, until the doors whooshed open. He didn't turn.

"Anderson!" the snarl was out before he could stop it. Deep down, he knew he was out of control, but Garrus couldn't stop. His blood coursed hotly through his veins and his hands shook with barely contained emotion.

"Officer Vakarian, come in." The councilor's tone was even, giving nothing away. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Don't give me that shit, Anderson," Garrus roared. He was vaguely aware that he was shouting and a small—very small—part of him was ashamed, but he couldn't stop. He wanted answers, wanted to hear that it wasn't true… wanted to hear that she was alive. "What the hell happened?"

Anderson didn't say anything at first, jaw tense. Garrus's rumble quieted and Anderson inhaled. One… two… three… He turned and exhaled, letting his hands fall to his sides. His face was drawn and pale and Garrus realized Anderson felt the loss—maybe not as keenly as he did, but there was still pain. His angry growl fell silent, but his posture did not change; his eyes were narrowed and piercing, mandibles tight to his face, and shoulders forward with clenched fists showing his anger.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit! How the hell could you not know?!" In the back of his mind, his turian training screamed at him to stop, to apologize and leave before any more damage was done, but it was long ignored and he ignored it again. He'd never been a good turian, he'd told Shepard—He flinched, her smiling face invading his thoughts, along with the realization that he'd never see that smile again.

"We have no reports. No one knows what attacked them. The surviving crew is too traumatized to give any intel just yet." The older human rubbed his brow, exhaustion setting in the lines of his face. "They were assigned to root out the last enclaves of geth, now that Sovereign was destroyed. They were scanning around Alchera when we received a distress signal. Before we even knew what had happened, the signal went dark. We don't know what attacked them; we don't even know how they destroyed the _Normandy_ so quickly. The escape pods had minor damage but the crew…" He sighed and amended, "surviving crew is fine. Well, as fine as they can be, I suppose. A few technicians didn't make it. Pressly was killed in the first strike." Garrus felt a pang of guilt, knowing he'd never been very cordial with the xenophobic navigator. "Shepard… Shepard didn't make it to the escape pods. Joker said she was trying to make sure everyone made it out. She went back for him and forced him to leave the ship. She saved his life, Garrus."

Garrus was shaking and he couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs. "Just tell me what happened," he finally managed, his voice strained, barely above a whisper.

Anderson winced and fell into the chair behind his desk. Silence settled in as he laced his fingers together, eyes boring into the floor a few feet to Garrus's left. Garrus waited, crossing his arms to keep from damaging any more of the already-injured Citadel.

"An explosion," the man finally said quietly, "blew her away from the escape pod as it launched. Joker… Joker isn't sure what happened exactly but…" He forced his eyes shut and took a long breath. "He saw her hit a wall, and her respirator started leaking."

Garrus felt a chill settle over him and his eyes widened. No… That couldn't be… Shepard would go out in a blaze of glory, no suffocating in a vacuum. That couldn't be it! That was the worst way to go: cold, alone, and desperate. Painless, maybe, but Shepard… She wouldn't have wanted painless. She would have said it was weak, she would have wanted to die fighting, not fighting for air! He forced his eyes shut, emotions roiling within him and threatening to escape: anger, despair, confusion… pain. His chest ached and his head felt like a krogan were standing on it, but even more, pain stabbed into his heart with every breath. She's gone. Gone, gone, gone.

"Garrus, I know you two were close…"

Garrus didn't hear, blood rushing in his ears as his brain scrambled to gather the pieces of his carefully constructed world. What now? The thought echoed over and over in his head, almost taunting him. He knew Anderson was saying something to him, but he couldn't understand the words. He felt like he was trapped in a void, struggling to get his bearings to save himself. His stomach dropped, knowing this was how Shepard spent her last moments. His best friend, and he couldn't save her. Not this time, not ever again.

Anderson's hand on his arm forced him back to the present, back to the Citadel, away from his thoughts. Garrus gave an apologetic nod and slumped back onto the chair across from Anderson's desk.

"Shepard left a will, Garrus. Not for her possessions, she didn't keep any as you know, but for the crew. She left recommendations for future assignments and applications for awards and promotions. A lot have your name on them. Most have been forwarded to the Turian Hierarchy, but she's recommended you for a Star of Terra."

"But I'm not Alliance," he finally managed, "I'm not even human."

"No, but that doesn't mean you didn't earn it, and Shepard's word carries a lot of weight. And as humanity's councilor, I stand by her choice. It would be a huge step to repairing damage from the First Contact War." Anderson, though he had fought, felt no animosity toward the aliens in question. Wary, yes, but that did not prevent him from trusting humanity's new allies.

Garrus couldn't help the small twitch of his mandibles into a smile. "This was her plan from the beginning. She always said there was no reason we couldn't move on and get along."

Anderson nodded sagely. "Maybe she'll get her wish. There is one other thing she left with your name on it." Garrus waited and Anderson held out a datapad. "A recommendation for Spectre training. She wrote it not long after you returned to C-Sec."

"I never re-applied for Spectre training," he replied lamely, staring at her glowing accolades about him.

"I know. And she knew too, since this hadn't been sent in yet. But I don't need to tell you what she wanted." He leveled a knowing stare at the young turian and Garrus fidgeted, not meeting the human's eyes.

"I can't replace her, Anderson." He hated the weakness in his own voice, but it was true. How could he live up to her legacy? No one could follow in her confident footsteps.

"No one expects you to. But you of all people should want to honor her wishes."

That burned him, and Garrus met the human councilor's gaze, eyes flashing. Of course he wanted to honor her wishes, but could he? Could he bear to follow her path, to be reminded of his best friend, when she was gone? He knew the answer, but the look in the human's eyes told him there was no debating.

"Alright. I… I'll put in the paperwork." He looked back down at the datapad, running a talon over the thin border.

"Glad to hear it." Anderson rose, going back to the balcony. "I understand what you're feeling, Garrus. Shepard…. She was like a daughter to me, and I feel her loss more than a commanding officer should." He leaned on the railing, looking far older than he had before Sovereign's attack. "I know it's a lot to ask but Shepard doesn't have any family, not after Mindoir—"Garrus nodded, though Anderson wasn't looking "—and you know her better than anyone. I'd like for you to speak at her service."

Garrus forced his mouth to remain shut for a moment. This was a risky thing Anderson was asking him to do. Sure, Shepard was a friend to turians, but that didn't mean the rest of humanity had forgiven his species—Ashley certainly hadn't. It would have been safer to ask someone else, someone human. Why him?

"What about Alenko? Or Liara?" He knew he sounded like a petulant child refusing to do chores, but also just wasn't sure he would be able to talk about Shepard, knowing she was gone. "Wouldn't the Alliance rather have someone…" Human? Not Turian? "… else?"

"Damn what the Alliance wants," Anderson snapped, "Did you care about Shepard?"

Garrus tensed, suddenly feeling like a green recruit at basic. Something in the councilor's voice made it clear he required an answer. "Sir?"

"Did you care about Jane Shepard?" Anderson repeated.

Jane… Garrus was ashamed, but he'd never known her given name. He desperately committed it to memory, never wanting to forget any part of her.

"She was my best friend," he finally answered, voice cracking.

"Then do what she would have wanted and honor her memory." Garrus could see the tears in the human councilor's eyes. "Dismissed."

Automatically, Garrus stood, saluted and went to the door, stopping himself just shy of the exit.

"Thank you," he finally managed, not looking back, "It's been a pleasure, Councilor."

Anderson watched him go, visibly sagging. He should have been used to putting on a brave face for his command, but nothing could have prepared him for this. In the silence of his office, the councilor let out a broken sigh, tears sliding down his weather face. Jane… too selfless for her own good. He chuckled sadly, remembering her concern for everyone but herself. So many times, he had found himself wishing she cared a bit more about her own life, but that wasn't Shepard. She wouldn't be Commander Jane Shepard if she weren't painfully heroic, endlessly caring, and surprisingly tolerant. And now… a void. Jane… His Jane… Garrus's Jane…

He looked back to the door pensively, wondering what would happen to the galaxy now.

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**I won't beg for reviews, but if you like something, let me know so I can keep doing it. =)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to anyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed this story. The encouragement is wonderful, and I will try to do your praise justice! **

**As I said before, this is much more about the emotions, relationships, and drama that were a bit marginalized through the games. If some things seem a bit non-canon, then I apologize, but this is how I saw them.**

**I still own nothing.**

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The service was… Garrus couldn't describe it. He was sure it was nice, for humans. People stood together, an altar of flowers and photos on a raised platform. Some cried, others comforted those beside them. Garrus wasn't even sure they had met Shepard, let alone knew her well enough to cry over. In his heart, he knew she wouldn't have wanted them to cry over her; that wasn't her style.

Wrex stood beside him, expression impassive—which, Garrus told himself, wasn't much different than normal—as they watched Anderson ascend the platform to a podium before the altar. The ceremonial armor Shepard had recovered for him was polished and cleaned like Garrus had never seen any of Wrex's armor look before. Wrex caught the turian's sideways glance and nudged his arm.

"The only way to mourn a true battlemaster is to be ready to avenge them." The krogan's gravelly voice was low and he settled into a stance resembling the human's "parade rest". Anderson was at the podium now, gripping its sides like he might fall without it. "The humans don't seem to know Shepard. All of this ceremony and useless pomp."

Garrus was inclined to agree, but Anderson began speaking and he held his tongue, eyes locked on the human councilor. He could see Admiral Hackett seated just below the platform, along with others he assumed to be Alliance leaders. Had any of them every spoken to Shepard beyond pinning on her awards?

"Humanity has lost a great leader in Commander Shepard. Her bravery and heroic example are a testament to her character, and to the Alliance." He stopped, staring blankly over the crowd. "Nothing I can say can truly express the gratitude both humanity and the galaxy as a whole owe to her, and yet here I stand before you to tell you what you already know. The first human Spectre, the hero of the Skyllian Blitz, and Savior of the Citadel. All of us owe Commander Shepard our lives." Garrus saw the almost imperceptible twitch of the councilor's lip as the human closed his eyes. He continued without looking at his audience, "I would give anything to bring her back. I would trade places with her in a heartbeat, because no one can do as much for the galaxy as Shepard could." There were nods and murmurs of agreement as he continued. "We are here to honor Commander Shepard and her memory as she deserved, though no doubt she deserved better than this." The agreement was louder now and he opened his eyes. Garrus had to admire the way Anderson pressed on, though it clearly hurt him to do so. "Commander Shepard earned the praise of the galaxy for her actions as an Alliance officer, but she was also a person, a woman of immovable morals and unequalled compassion. She earned the loyalty and friendship of her crew by caring about them more than herself. And with that in mind, I have asked a member of her crew to speak." Anderson's gaze locked on Garrus's and he shifted uncomfortably. "Officer Garrus Vakarian, who accompanied Commander Shepard on her mission against Saren, Sovereign, and the geth."

Garrus's feet were carrying him toward the platform before he could think, and he stared blankly over the crowd of people. He was met by a mix of confusion, uncertainty, and more than a little bit of badly-masked hostility. Kaiden glared daggers at him from his place beside the Normandy's surviving crew. Joker didn't look up from the section of floor that captivated his attention. He knotted his hands together behind his back, trying to think of something to say. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Thank you, Councilor Anderson," he finally managed. His voice was low, laced with sadness. His subharmonics trilled out a low keen full of despair, regret, and loss, but he didn't try to control them. "Anything I say about Commander Shepard, you already know. She was a hero many times over. She was everything the Alliance wanted in a soldier. She was the first human Spectre." He let his hands fall to his sides and took a deep breath. His presence was already greeted with hostility, what could he possibly say to make it worse? "But Jane Shepard was more than that, to anyone who met her. She was a leader and mentor, and my best friend." Whispers rose up—some in anger, others in surprise—and he pressed on, "The things I learned from Jane Shepard could not be taught by anyone else. Not a Spectre, not a commander. She was a person before she was any of those things. The galaxy has lost not just a great hero and leader; it was lost its greatest citizen. And I have lost my best friend." He stopped, jaw tight. Keep it together. Finish and get out of here, you've done enough damage, his brain told him. "Jane Shepard wouldn't have wanted us to mourn her death, but to celebrate her life. A life spent doing what she loved: helping others. I will remember her this way, as my friend, as she was in life."

There was uncertain applause as he stepped off the platform. He risked a look at the altar, taking in the pictures displayed like a gallery. She smiled out at him, green eyes bright as she toted her pistol alongside her crew, or shoved playfully at Wrex's shoulder, or… He froze at the base of the platform as he stared at the last picture. Taken after their mission on Therum, he wasn't sure how they had gotten the picture. Neither of them were looking at the camera, but at each other and she was laughing. Her hand was on his arm, pointing to the Mako, and he was standing barely a foot away from her, arms crossed as he smirked down at her. He remembered it; she had almost destroyed the tank—again—and had come to check on him while he was fixing it. He'd made fun of her driving, threatening to hide the keys so she couldn't hurt it anymore. His heart clenched and he forced himself back toward his place beside Wrex. The krogan gave him a slap on the back and looked back to where Admiral Hackett had stepped up to the platform.

"Thank you, Officer Vakarian," he said, observing the crowd, "How often we forget there is more to Commander Shepard than her military accomplishments. And so it is with my deepest regret that I say goodbye to Commander Jane Shepard." He lifted a folded flag, her Alliance dog tags settled on top, from the altar and made a show of handing them to Anderson. The human councilor stared through the Admiral as he accepted them, saluting stiffly and Garrus felt himself nodding. Anderson was the closest thing she had had to family; he deserved it.

As if on cue, music began. Garrus recognized it as an old Earth instrument he'd read about on the extranet. The melody was sad, reflecting the sorrow that had taken up residence in his chest, and he heard a strangling sob beside him. Without thinking, he pulled Liara's small form to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She sobbed heavily against his armored chest and he tried to keep his expression stoic. Wrex squared his shoulders and mimicked the human salute as Anderson walked past them. The older human nodded in acknowledgement before catching Garrus's gaze. Liara's sobs seemed so far away, and he met the councilor's eyes as calmly as he could, but the low keen in his chest had not stopped, and he wasn't sure he could. As if in a trance, Anderson held out the dog tags to him, tears sliding silently down his face. Garrus took them mutely and nodded, not trusting his voice, and Anderson left without a word. Whatever had passed between them, they understood each other and their loss.

Other filed past the three aliens who couldn't seem to bring themselves to leave. Some glared openly at Garrus, a trespasser in their eyes, but others offered half-hearted condolences, patting his arm as if that would make everything better, as if it would lessen the pain. He gave them all polite nods, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything, jaw clamped tightly shut and mandibles tight to his face.

By the time Liara's crying had subsided, they were all but alone in the huge auditorium, and her quivering breaths echoed off the walls. She pushed back from him finally and gave him a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Thank you Garrus, I..." She paused and gave his hand a squeeze. "I know this is hard for you." When he didn't say anything, she sighed, patted his arm, and left. What else could she do? He was grateful that she hadn't pushed it. No amount of sympathy could dull the ache in his chest or banish the nauseating feeling that things would never be the same, never the way they should have been. Wrex left without a word, leaving Garrus staring straight ahead.

His feet refused to move, bound to the floor by some invisible force. His talon ran over the metal in his hand, feeling the raised letters that spelled out her name. Just like that… So suddenly… He had never expected her death—he knew it was silly, no one was immortal he told himself, but Shepard just didn't seem like someone who could die—but he had at least expected some warning, some rise to a climactic event. This… This was so underwhelming. It was over. Just like that…

"You have no right to those."

Garrus snapped out of his reverie to lock eyes with Lieutenant Alenko. The human biotic was openly seething, glaring at the turian as if, if he did it hard enough, the offending being would burst into flames. Garrus looked down at the dog tags and closed his talons around them.

"And you think you do," he stated quietly. Not a question. If Alenko knew anything about turians—Garrus was sure he did not—he would have noted the annoyed twitch of the taller being's mandibles and backed off. Instead, Kaiden jabbed a finger at him.

"Damn right I do," he growled—growled as well as humans could, Garrus reflected—and made to reach for them, but stopped as a rumble rose in Garrus's chest. It was the same rumble that had wracked his chest when he first heard the news of Shepard's death: pain, despair, loss… rage. His grip on the little metal tags tightened, but he forced himself not to crush them. They were all he had of her now. That thought sent a jolt of pain through him that almost drove him to his knees, but instead, he straightened and locked his piercing gaze on the small human.

"Get out of here, Alenko," he finally managed, "This isn't what Jane would have wanted."

"Stop calling her that!"

Something snapped inside him, and Garrus took a threatening step forward, face inches from Kaiden's. "Stop calling her by her name?!" he roared, hands shaking. His mandibles widened to show teeth and he flexed his talons experimentally. "Are you jealous, Alenko? That I spoke for her, that I have these, or that she didn't want you?" he spat, taking another step. To his credit, Kaiden realized too late that he'd made a mistake and matched it with a step back. "You insult her memory with your petty jealousy, and you insult her life by disregarding our friendship." The human shrunk visibly under the angry turian's glare, looking down at the floor. For a moment, neither said anything, the air between them all but crackling with tension.

"Fine, keep them," Kaiden finally muttered, stalking out, "It doesn't change anything."

Garrus almost grabbed the human by his cowardly little neck, but he could almost hear Shepard scoff. "Don't bother," she would have said, "he's not worth it. You're better than that." He had to glance over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't there, disappointment settling over him like a blanket when she wasn't there. He lifted his head to look up through the glass ceiling above him; maybe she was up there, maybe he could see her.

Minutes ticked by as he stood unmoving before he let out a broken sigh and forced his legs to move. His feet felt like lead weights as he walked, not toward the door, but to the shrine to Shepard on the platform. Without thinking, he grabbed the pictures—she always liked old Earth photos, he mused—and tucked them under his arm. Almost as an afterthought, he looked at the one of the both of them, a sad smile pulling at his face.

"I miss you, Jane," he whispered to the empty room. His eyes burned and he forced them shut. Turians were physically incapable of crying, but he knew this sensation might as well have been the same.

"Don't cry over me." He forced his eyes open and spun, searching for her. "That's not what I want." A low trill escaped him when he didn't find her, but her voice hit him again, "You have to live, Garrus. You have your life ahead of you."

"I can't do it without you." His throat was tight and he stared at the picture again.

"Of course you can." He could imagine her standing, hands on her hips, with a smirk on her lips. "You did just fine before I came along, now go."

Without thinking, he obeyed his commander's orders, striding out and heading straight for C-Sec.

"Anything for you, Jane."

* * *

**Yes, I slipped some Kaiden bashing in here. Sorry, not sorry.**

**I'll try to update this as often as possible (read: whenever inspiration takes me), so bear with me!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So for some reason, I had a really hard time writing this chapter. It just felt really intense, heavy almost, and the words just wouldn't flow.**

**I promise things will pick up soon, so bear with me!**

* * *

"Where's that report from the smuggling case?" Garrus called out angrily, sorting through datapads on his desk with agitated hands, "We don't have time for this!" He shoved away from the mess and stalked to the door, looking out into the hallway. "Chellick!"

"Relax, Vakarian. We only closed that case a few hours ago; it won't matter if the report doesn't get in until tomorrow." The lighter turian shrugged. "Just chill out for a bit. You're going to drive yourself crazy."

Garrus stared at him for a moment, eyes misting over. _You have no idea... _He shook himself and managed a scowl. "On my desk by the end of the day. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can stop someone else," he replied stiffly, turning back into his office. His omnitool beeped and he stopped, staring at it blankly. Even after months, he still had to brace himself for the disappointment that it wasn't… her.

_Vakarian, meet me in my office_. –P

Garrus let out an annoyed huff and stalked back out of the hallway and toward the executor's office. He had more than a few things he could have said to the executor, most of which included some tirade about the man's perceived incompetence, or the numerous regulations that served no purpose other than to annoy him that kept him from doing his job. Or the fact that no one seemed to see that anything was wrong. Criminals got away on technicalities, or convoluted legal loopholes, or outright bribery. He was sick of it; sick of seeing scum walk out and onto the streets, free to commit the same crimes again. He stopped in front of his boss's door and sighed, squaring his shoulders.

"Be a man, Vakarian."

He closed his eyes. _Not now, Shepard_.

"Don't let this asshole stand in your way. You're wasted here. You know that. "

She was his conscience; always telling him what he knew was true, but was too scared to admit. _I know._

"The Spectres is where you belong. You could make a difference."

His stomach clenched. _But I met you here. Maybe you'll come again and it'll be just like it was._

"You don't need me, Garrus. Go tell Pallin you're gonna join the Spectres."

_I need you._

Silence greeted his thoughts and he rubbed his face tiredly. He'd never admit to hearing Shepard—he was not crazy, he told himself—but it made life bearable. Not good, but bearable.

He was standing in front of the executor when he stepped back out of his thoughts and the older turian nodded to him.

"Officer Vakarian, please, sit." As Garrus sat obediently, the elder rose and moved to a small bar he maintained on the wall. Two tumblers of brandy balanced on his claws when he returned and he extended one to Garrus. The younger accepted but didn't drink. "I owe you some congratulations, Vakarian. Your work lately has been exceptional." Garrus remained silent, staring at the brandy in his hands and Pallin sipped, watching him. The silence stretched on, but Garrus made no indication that he planned on responding. His shoulders drooped and his eyes looked haunted. "When was the last time you slept, Vakarian?"

Garrus scoffed and shrugged. "Last night, for what good it did," he spat bitterly. In truth, he never slept more than an hour or so before nightmares woke him up. Gasping for air in a vacuum, desperately trying to reach the retreating wreckage of the ship… A shudder raced up his spine, unbidden, and Pallin quirked a browplate at him. Again, silence muscled its way between them to languish in the stagnant conversation.

"Garrus," the executor finally said, "you look like hell. I'm telling you this because I knew your father, and he was the same way. You need to take some time off before you run yourself into the ground. Take some time to figure… whatever it is out." He finished his brandy and waited for the younger turian to meet his eyes. Garrus didn't look up and Pallin sighed. "I'm not even sure what else you can do here. Crime has dropped dramatically since you came back, and your case closure rate is at an all-time high. I've never seen anyone go above 84%."

Garrus's hands tightened on the glass and he clenched his jaw tight. "It's not good enough," he ground out. Pallin stared at him in shock and Garrus finally met his gaze. The torrent of anguish and pain there made the executor shift back in his seat a bit. "As long as there's even a chance they'll get away, it's not good enough." He looked back down at his hands, the brandy threatening to splash out of the glass as they shook.

"Garrus, I know you hate what you think is injustice but—"

"No." Garrus was on his feet, glass abandoned on the desk. "That's not it. I hate seeing perps walk, knowing they're going to do the exact damn thing and we'll drag them back into the same damn cell and they'll walk out on the exact same damn loophole that no one can be bothered to revise. How do you tell victims that they're in this situation because we couldn't catch the guy before for the same damn thing?" His voice had risen almost to a shout and he snapped his mouth shut. "My apologies, sir. I was out of line."

"Vakarian, I understand what you're saying. But there's nothing we can do."

"There fucking should be," he growled, stalking out.

Pallin watched him go, mandibles twitching. Whatever was bothering his top officer went deeper than just criminals getting away with it, but he wasn't in a position to push the issue. Whatever problems he had with the mercurial young officer could be overlooked when compared with his success, but Vakarian had never been outright insubordinate. Until now. The thought gave him pause—sure, he could confront Garrus, but would it change? Garrus would continue to do well at his job and Pallin would accept the good with the bad. Business as usual. He turned his attention back to the console on his desk, hoping things would sort themselves out.

* * *

Garrus let his eyes skim Chellick's report without reading the words, chin resting on his palm. He had been trying—failing—to read it for almost an hour, but he couldn't seem to focus. There were so many more cases to get to, but what could he do that he hadn't already done?

"You're not helpless."

He let his eyes slide closed, lowering the datapad to the desk. _Am I? Nothing has changed._ He massaged his eyes through their lids.

"Come on, Garrus. We know that's why you're doing this. You think if you can control all crime on the Citadel, you'll be in control of your life. You've _been_ in control of your life, Garrus. My death doesn't change that."

_I wasn't there, I couldn't help you, and now you're gone. This isn't how I wanted to spend my life. _These conversations had become more and more frequent as time stretched on since the service. He'd decided if being crazy meant hearing her voice, then he was happily insane. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but he had accepted it.

"What? Without me? You spent your entire life without me before we met."

_It's not the same._

There was silence then and he sighed, pulling up his omnitool. A few taps and the report was filed; if it wasn't right, it was Chellick's problem. Five new files blinked tauntingly at him. Five more crimes in an hour. What could he possibly do to make a difference when this was what he was up against? It seemed so... futile. And the red tape… A low growl escaped him just thinking about it. Dozens of cases going cold because they were caught up in red tape, and even more criminals walking out on stupid legal technicalities when everyone knew they were guilty. Garrus jerked to his feet and began pacing, hands knotted behind his back.

"Uh, Vakarian?"

He took a long breath and glanced to the door. "Yes, Chellick?" His voice dripped with annoyance as he turned to face the other officer. His mandibles twitched, betraying the mask of calm he had in place.

"You're not going to like this, but there was—"

"Just tell me," Garrus snapped irritably. Chellick winced and looked down at his hands. This had become the standard response to his steadily souring demeanor and Garrus was beginning to wonder just how many of his fellow officers were actually afraid of him. He hadn't seen anyone except Chellick for days… He gave his head a small shake, trying to focus on what the aforementioned officer was saying to him.

"… couldn't stop the damned advocate, and we figured it wouldn't matter, but… Well, um… The Eclipse smuggler got away, Garrus."

Garrus's hands clenched unconsciously and his gaze darkened. "What."

"There was nothing we could do. His damn advocate got our evidence thrown out, said we violated his rights by seizing the shipment without a warrant—"

"We had probable cause."

"Well, that's what we said but… Spirits, Garrus, we tried, but this guy was two steps ahead of us the whole time." Chellick let his hands fall and finally met the taller turian's gaze. "We tried everything."

Garrus felt his blood pounding in his head, roaring in his ears, and ran a hand over his brow plates, giving him a few seconds to think. "Fine, have a team tail him; I want eyes on him at all times."

Chellick shifted, discomfort becoming more and more clear. "See… That's the problem. We haven't been able to find him, and we can't get a warrant to track his omnitool. He's… gone."

Garrus's jaw clenched, mandibles tight to his face, and a growl rose in his chest. "You're telling me that not only did one of the biggest dealers of eezo—tainted eezo, no less—get away, but he's essentially made it impossible to ever find him again."

"Yes…"

"Get out."

Chellick took a step back, surprised by the malice in his coworker's voice. Garrus didn't look at him, fists shaking. His chest rose and fell quickly, giving away his barely contained fury. Chellick took the chance and ducked back into the hallway, leaving Garrus alone again. His fist slammed onto the desk, sending datapads flying, and a growl tore from his throat.

"Dammit!"

They had been so close… So fucking close! Eclipse had been smuggling eezo onto the Citadel for years, but for the first time, C-Sec was making progress against them. Garrus had finally gotten wind of their next drop, and with a great plan, the element of surprise, and more than a little bit of luck they'd captured an Eclipse Lieutenant. Finally, a huge break through. He could have told them everything they had ever wanted to know, could have given them an air tight case against the mercenary band to finally bring them to justice and….

And the fucking red tape had screwed him over again!

"You'll get him Garrus, I believe in you."

He wanted to turn around and grab Shepard and shake her, how could she know? But he knew better by now. Numerous moments of awkwardly staring around his office had made him well-versed in not reacting to his dead commander's voice. _Shut up, Shepard_.

"Stop sulking, go out there, and catch him. You got him once, you can get him again."

With a bemused smirk, he wondered when his delusion had gotten so annoyingly optimistic. No, there wouldn't be another time. They'd never have a chance like that again. More unnecessary casualties of the tainted eezo would flood in, and they would be all his fault. His chest clenched and he wanted to hit something—no, he'd replaced enough of his office to know that wouldn't work. Shepard couldn't understand that.

That thought gave him pause and he looked up at the ceiling, expression blank. He was thinking about Shepard like she was alive. She wasn't alive—he knew that, he'd been to the service—so why was he so concerned that she agree with him? She couldn't agree with him. And she couldn't make him stay.

He blinked. Sure, he'd thought of leaving C-Sec a few times—usually when the legal bullshit and red tape kept him from doing his job—but the only time he'd gone through with it was when he'd joined up with Shepard. Could he really just walk away again? It wasn't like he was joining up with her again. It couldn't go that well again. Couldn't it?

He fell back into his chair, still lost in thought—thoughts that were still surprising him—and ran a hand over his desk. There wasn't much holding him to the job anymore; he'd joined to bring justice to criminals, but he wasn't doing that—they were getting away. There had to be somewhere else he could go to do that; there was something for him besides C-Sec.

Shepard. She was outside C-Sec.

No, she was gone. He was on his own. Alone in a galaxy that didn't seem to notice everything that was wrong. He suddenly felt very much alone, isolated from everyone there was and hunched forward in his chair.

"You promised me you'd go back to Spectre training. What happened to you, Garrus?"

He let out a bitter laugh, quiet in the silence of the increasingly-constraining office. _You happened. _He couldn't admit it out loud, but in the privacy of his own thoughts—excluding his convincingly-realistic delusion of Shepard—he knew he couldn't stand to follow Shepard's path through the Spectres, always expecting her around the next corner to slap him on the back and say, "Glad to have you on the team, Garrus." His heart ached and he rubbed his carapace absently. _There's too much of… you there._

"I thought you wanted to make a difference. So go do it."

Had Shepard been this irritating in life? Probably, but he'd idolized her, overlooked whatever flaws there probably were, and set her on a pedestal. Her word had been gospel: life was sacred, kill only when necessary, and put the common good above your own wants. There was something childishly idealistic about that philosophy, but he had never been able to shake the feeling that somehow she was _right_. Even when every part of him had screamed to kill Saleon as soon as they'd found him, he'd stopped when she ordered him to stand down. The doctor died anyway, but her answer to his anger-induced questions hung over him from then on: you can't control how people will act, but you can control how you'll respond.

Well, that was true. He couldn't keep criminals from skating on through because their advocate knew the legal magic words, but he could change what he was going to do about it… No, that wouldn't work on the Citadel; it was too clean, too organized.

Omega.

He straightened with a start, pulling up his omnitool. Yes… Omega. Toxic sinkhole it was, but there was no bureaucracy, no red tape to stop him from righting wrongs and fighting crime. He let out a quiet bark of cynical laughter. He sounded like an idealistic child; fighting crime, stopping the bad guys like a human super hero. Grow up. _I sound like Shepard._

But Omega… The idea had potential. Leave the Citadel and start over—he'd need a new name—and exercise his own brand of justice on the notoriously criminal station. Alone against throngs of mercenaries and criminals. Something in the impossible odds thrilled him and he smiled darkly.

Yes, Omega…

* * *

**I guess I had a really hard time verbalizing the train of thought leading to Omega. Lemme know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I will warn everyone in advance; this chapter gets a little dark and a little graphic. You have been warned!**

**I still don't own anything.**

* * *

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Hold.

Wind speed and trajectory blinked a warning in his visor. He didn't bother adjusting his scope; he wouldn't be there for that long, anyway. He shifted, aiming nanometers left of where he had been previously. Adjust for drop-off, and…

Red blood splattered over clean blue and white armor as the sound of a rifle firing echoed through the "empty" allies. The shooter vaguely wondered if the pristine armor had ever seen combat, but it wouldn't matter now. Empty space yawned where the mercenary's head had been and the body fell in a heap.

One.

The scope was settled on a new target before the sound had died; the merc's eyes were wide and he looked around frantically. Unaware of his friend's demise, a round tore into his chest and he crumbled. A faint gurgle reached the sniper's ears as the life drained from the merc's face.

Two.

The last merc brought his gun up, scanning the room calmly. Well, as calmly as a man can while he's stepping through his comrades' blood and brains. The cross hair lined up just above the man's forehead and—

Bang!

His head snapped back, gun falling from his grip, and he dropped to his knees. For a moment, it seemed he would stay like that, but gravity took hold and the body tumbled forward.

Three.

With practiced precision, the rifle was disassembled and stowed and, lurching to his feet, the armored sniper all but ran from his perch above the killing ground. To the untrained eye, the allies were deserted, but he knew that the citizens of Omega were experts at remaining unseen. Whispers of "Archangel" reached his ears through his helmet, face hidden behind the darkened glass, as he hurried away. The gold symbol on his arm earned him nods of reverence as he wove through the slums, trying to get off the streets as fast as possible.

"Spirits bless you, Archangel."

The helmeted turian paused, staring at the asari for a moment before hurrying on. She looked like…

The image of his teammate lying in a pool of purple blood, eyes wide and clouded, mouth open like she was screaming rose unbidden and he fought down the nausea that threatened to overtake him. Legs snapped at odd angles, stomach slit and guts spilled beside her. He knew—he _knew_—she had been alive for all of it, and the memory made him shudder. If only these people knew… They wouldn't revere him as a savior if they knew what he had done.

He'd let his team die.

Bitterness gripped his heart and he cursed Lantar Sidonis for the thousandth time, stomping into the apartment complex that had become his hideout. Thermal clips littered the floors and surfaces and medi-gel was stuffed into every available inch of shelf-space. He mused that it probably looked like he was preparing for an apocalyptic invasion and the humorless husk of his soul responded that he was. Right, the gangs… He trudged up the stairs and flopped onto of the couches. They'd be after him soon. No, they already were. Maybe they'd get lucky and find him, put a bullet between his eyes.

Good.

He tugged a chain from under his armor and let his talons run over the metal tags, _her_ tags. At least if they killed him, he could finally be with her.

Shepard. Jane. Just like old times…

He'd come to Omega over a year ago—it seemed so much longer than that—and immediately ran afoul of Omega's self-proclaimed queen. She made it clear that she had every intention of teaching him a lesson for breaking her one very simple rule, but something in his despondent stare as he had placidly listened to her chew him out made her change her mind. She'd made him an offer—more like an order, but that wouldn't have been _polite_—and he'd accepted with a shrug: stay out her business and fuck with all of the gangs equally. Good enough for him. In exchange, she ignored him and denied knowing anything about him when the gangs came to her. Which was pretty easy, considering all she—or anyone, for that matter—knew was that he was turian and a deadly shot. Sure, she'd tried to get him to talk or even take off his helmet at their odd encounter, but he'd adamantly refused and—after many failures—she'd given up. Aria T'Loak would never admit it, but a mutual respect existed between the pirate queen and the vigilante.

Archangel lowered his head into his hands, letting out a shaky breath. The Blue Suns would find their dead soon, if they hadn't already, and they'd want payback, once and for all. They were by far the largest group—and therefore the largest threat—but the other two gangs were a concern as well. Eclipse and Blood Pack had already made a few pitiful attempts to take him down after he'd decimated their chain of command—retribution for the slaughter of his squad. He tensed as memories forced their way forward.

* * *

Blood—lots of it, lots of colors—painted the walls and floor like a macabre masterpiece. Smoke choked him, carrying the stench of burning flesh. He barely held down the bile in his throat, stepping further into their headquarters. He couldn't bring himself to call out for anyone, jaw clenched tight until it ached as he pushed further in.

The sight of the bodies—mangled, burned, bloodied—made his stomach retch and he surrendered its contents until his eyes burned.

"-angel?"

The weak voice jolted him and he ran toward it. "Hello? Where are you?"

"Damn… You—" a hacking cough cut off the voice, human voice, "—you did come back."

He rounded a corner and felt his stomach attempt to rebel again, eyes falling to his first ally on Omega. "Spirits, Butler," he breathed, kneeling beside the pale human. Butler coughed, hand pressed to a gaping hole in his torso, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Archangel could see snapped and shredded ribs through the wound and, as his friend let out another violent hacking cough, he could tell the man's lungs were filling. If he didn't bleed out, he would drown. Bruises covered his face and arms like he had been beaten before the buckshot was unloaded into his chest.

"Hey, boss." He gasped for air between coughs and Archangel went to apply medi-gel to the wound—to do something to help his friend—but Butler shook his head. "Don't bother. Too—" he wheezed, trying to get enough air, "—too late for me." A humorless laugh escaped him, though it sounded more like a shallow panting breath. "Never thought it would end like this." Archangel stared, despair evident in his clear blue eyes. "Do me a favor, boss," he forced out, hands beginning to shake, "Kill the bastards." His eyes widened and his gripped the turian's arm with impossible strength, then released it, eyes glazing over as his head fell to one side. The turian grabbed the man's shoulder but he was limp, and a mournful keen reverberated from his chest. Gone, his entire team was gone, and he hadn't been there to help them. He'd left them to their deaths.

"You couldn't have known."

_Get out, Shepard_. For the first time, he didn't want to hear her reasonable comments, her calm tone grating on the open wounds. He lurched to his feet and stumbled out of the burning building, into the streets of a station that both loved and hated him. How had this happened?

Sidonis.

Rage burned inside him and he vowed right then and there that one day, he would find him and repay him for his _kindness_. A life for a life, and he owed twelve.

* * *

Commotion drew him out of the memory, out of his bitter fog, and he went to the window. His eyes narrowed, settling himself on a low crate below the ledge, and he brought his rifle's detached scope to his eye. His mandibles pulled tight to his face in a turian frown behind his helmet and a low growl rumbled in his chest.

A barricade had been set up on the far side of the bridge. Oddly proficient for the gangs… He caught a glimpse of Blue Suns armor over the wall, then a flash of yellow alongside the gnarled form of a vorcha and his brow furrowed. Eclipse and Blood Pack working with the Blue Suns? Doubt settled heavily in his gut and he kept watching as they reinforced their line, positioning troops to shoot intermittently at the building. Mercs scurried about, peering over the wall every now and again, and he found himself wondering who the unaffiliated soldiers were. They stood out among the uniformed gangs—freelancers, he guessed, promised money if they helped the gangs—and probably had no idea what they were up against. Good. Without diverting his eyes, Archangel reassembled his rifle—an older, worn model but he would never part with it.

Shepard had given it to him, a parting gift, when he'd told her that he was returning to C-Sec.

His talon ran absently over the space just above the trigger, feeling the uneven patch of metal where he'd etched her name and he let out a low sigh. _I'll see you soon, Shepard_. He had stopped expecting answers shortly after his team… After that. She was angry with him, he imagined—he knew it was stupid, she was a figment of his imagination, but it was all he had—and he didn't begrudge her that. But he still missed his best friend. Her tags hung like a weight around his neck and his settled the rifle against his shoulder. The crosshairs floated until they settled on a young freelancer—secondhand armor that barely fit and a gun that he was obviously not trained with—and lined up on his face. He had no idea what he had signed up for; as far as Archangel knew, he was innocent. His talon tightened on the trigger, waiting, tempting Shepard to stop him and tell him he couldn't kill innocent people, regardless of the situation.

Nothing.

_Tell me not to, Shepard. Tell me this isn't who I am._

Silence. He felt an ache in his heart and closed his eyes for a moment. _Please, Jane._ Stupid, stupid, stupid, he chided himself. Even when he knew she was dead, he still needed her to save him, to guide him. Well, there wouldn't be any more of that; no more Shepard. No more Vakarian, he mused sadly. Maybe this was meant to be his end; maybe he couldn't carry on without her. Part of him had always known that was true, but now his brain screamed it at the top of its lungs to fill her silence.

_I'm sorry, Shepard._

The lightest pressure, and the bullet discharged, flying across the space and burying itself in the kid's neck.

One.

* * *

White… Sterile… Chemical smell…

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Words… She could hear words. Someone was speaking and she strained to understand, but her muddled brain couldn't wrap itself around the speech. Desperately, she tried to turn her head, to look around and get her bearings, but she couldn't move.

Panic.

Her eyes darted around the room, locking on a face as the woman stepped into her field of vision. Wide, terrified green met grey and she struggled to open her mouth, to demand answers, warn her off, beg for help… Her jaw wouldn't move, sending a spear of pain through her mouth and she tried to twitch away from the pain.

_Help me_.

The woman started speaking, her lips moving in the same pattern over and over until her brain finally connected. "Commander Shepard, don't move," the woman said. Her voice was not soothing as she looked down at the laid up commander. "Just lie still. Everything will be all right."

Shepard… Right, her name. Shepard. Her last name. What was her given name? Her head ached as she wracked her brain, but it wasn't for naught. Jane. Her name was Jane Shepard. She clung to it with her sluggish mind, desperate to hold on to something.

She tried to lift her arm, commanded her body to react and do as she willed, to stop this strange woman, but her hand barely rose an inch. Her keeper gently pushed it back down—despite the fact that Shepard was resisting with all her might, it seemed to take no effort—and gave her a small smile.

"I promise, everything will be all right." Her gaze shifted to someone outside of Shepard's gaze and barked, "Give her the sedative."

"I did, she's not responding. Her vitals are erratic and her heart rate is climbing." The machines beeped in a frantic alarm and Shepard willed the woman to look at her again.

"Another dose, now!"

_Don't send me back there. Please, don't send me back there. Please! Let me stay awake!_ Her whole body ached and pain lanced through various parts of her, but she couldn't bear to fall back into the black. _Please, please, it's cold and dark. Don't make me go back there!_ The edges of her vision began to darken and a pained whimper slipped between her lips. There was no light waiting for her, she knew. There hadn't been the first time, and there wouldn't be now. _Please…_ Tears slid down her scarred cheeks and she didn't look away from the woman above her, trying to communicate with her eyes but the woman moved away from her, out of sight. Shepard wanted to scream, but it was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open. Her vision narrowed further, growing darker and darker until…

She fell back into the void, fear and despair filling her last seconds of consciousness.

* * *

**Shepard has finally made her appearance! This chapter went to a bit of a dark place, but bear with me.**

**Pardon me while I beg for reviews, but I really want to know what you guys think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Two updates in one day? I must love you guys a whole lot. =P I tease, I just couldn't get this chapter out of my head.**

**Still don't own anything.**

* * *

"Really, Commander, I wish you'd wear the helmet we had made for you. Your cybernetics make you stronger, but not invincible."

"Lawson."

"Yes, Commander?"

"Shove it."

The other woman balked, staring after her as they stalked through the mercenaries' camp where they would mount the assault against Archangel. Her mouth hung open and the Commander mused that shock was not an expression that suited the otherwise "perfect" Miranda. Internally, she sneered. Good. Someone had to teach her some humility. Or maybe she was just offended. Also good.

"Shepard, really, we risked a lot bringing you back, the least you could do—"

"I have a name, Lawson," Shepard spat, whirling on her. She jabbed a gauntleted finger at the other woman and continued, "It's not Commander, or Science Project, or Cerberus Plaything. It's Jane fucking Shepard. Now shut up, stop questioning me, and follow your damn orders. Jacob, take the right."

"Yes, ma'am," the ex-Alliance security chief replied, dutifully obeying the command.

"Are you coming, Miranda?" Shepard called over her shoulder, already walking away.

The Cerberus operative rubbed her brow and sighed. "Yes, Shepard. On your six." Shepard contemplated apologizing, hearing the defeat in the other woman's voice, but thought better of it. As Miranda trotted to catch up to them, Shepard mused that if they didn't like her she didn't care. She didn't like them, didn't trust them, and if they chose to do the same then fine. But dammit, they would respect her!

"Right, come on. Let's find this stupid Sergeant Cathka." Her green eyes were as flat as her voice and the two Cerberus soldiers shared a glance. Commander Shepard—the new, revived Shepard—was not like they had expected. Humanity's paragon of good was jaded and cynical; not even the return of her pilot, her friend, had broken through to her. Joker had put on a brave face, but when she'd brushed past him with only a nod, the pain that showed on his face looked as though someone had crushed all of his weakened bones one by one. His jokes became less frequent, and he complained about EDI's presence less and less. Things were not going according to plan. They followed her through the compound, carefully watching the mercenaries around them, but Shepard seemed to care little for her safety, almost daring anyone to come at her.

"In here." Shepard ducked into an alcove and surveyed the inactive heavy mech. Miranda and Jacob follow, blocking any outsider's line of sight as she knelt in front of the maintenance console.

"If we can scramble its friend/foe differentiation, we—" Miranda was cut off by the sound of crossed wires overriding the circuits and Shepard pulled her hands from within the console and slammed it shut.

"Done. Move out." Hollow… She felt empty and distant. Sure, she was commanding a ship to save the galaxy—just like old times—but it felt like she was simply going through the motions. Her heart wasn't in it. _No,_ she thought coldly, _I just don't have one_. She was just a shell that looked like Jane Shepard, animated to fulfill the Illusive Man's purposes. Damn bastard… The pretentious fucker was a total asshole with a heaping side of douchebag, but she needed the ship and Cerberus's resources, and she didn't see a way out without helping him. For now. It made her skin crawl, but she didn't exactly have options. As far as the Alliance was concerned, she was dead, and the Council had already written her off as delusional and denied her claims that the Reapers were real. Served her right, she supposed. They had always been skeptical and stand-off-ish with her, why would that change after she'd saved their damn lives? So much for fucking loyalty. Her fists clenched, thinking about how quickly everyone had turned their backs on her. She couldn't even get her old team back.

Tali's words rang in her ears: "You died, Shepard. It's been two years. Everyone's moved on. None of us expected you to come back."

Right… Two years. That made her wince. Two years she'd been lying on a slab while Cerberus rebuilt and "upgraded" her. She snuck a glance at Miranda and scowled. Petty though it was, she hated the operative for putting her back into a coma when she'd awoken the first time. The unnatural darkness haunted her and, much to her own chagrin, she had to constantly keep the lights in her cabin on. Waking up screaming in the pitch dark was an experience she was not inclined to repeat. As far as she was concerned, Cerberus could go fuck themselves and if Archangel—or even a merc—managed to put a bullet through her head then good for them. She wasn't scared of dying anymore; she knew what was waiting.

Nothing. No warmth, no peace, no light at the end of the tunnel, just an empty, cold, blackness. The only possible unknown in life had been revealed to her. There was nothing left.

A trio of mercs eyes them cautiously as they approached. They were armed a bit better than the freelancers and Shepard strode over with purpose.

"Cathka?" Her voice identified her as someone not to be fucked with, sparking a nervous look between the three of them. One jerked his head over his shoulder toward a parked gunship and she slipped between them without another word. Carefully ducking under the wing, she approached the Blue Suns Sergeant.

"It's Sergeant Cathka, freelancer." He straightened and turned to face her, tapping his helmet so she could see his face through the glass. Batarian. She quashed the automatic anger that bubbled up in her gut. The memories were old, but she couldn't forget that it was Batarian slavers that had slaughtered her family. "Well, aren't you—"

"Save it," she snapped, "I'm not here to be looked at. What's the plan?" She crossed her arms and settled into her hip, staring him down through the fringe of her hair.

The batarian shrugged and turned to a console beside the gunship. "You'll be with the rest of the freelancers running distraction for the infiltration unit. Once they're inside, we'll crack that building open and it'll be over for Archangel."

"So we're just meat shields."

"If you get shot, yeah. So don't get shot."

"And what, exactly, will you be doing? Joining us on our glorious charge?" Her voice was laced with acid and he cast her what was meant to be a withering glare but she could only laugh. The laugh was chilling and Cathka turned to face her fully, cigarette in hand.

"Tarak doesn't pay me enough to run out there and die. No, I just organize the ground teams and repair the damn gunship. You freelancers get the pleasure of charging a so-far-impregnable fortress. Now, if that's all I—" The console beeped urgently and he went to it. "Bravo team, move out, go go go!" He turned to her and added, "Guess it's show time. Head out there and get to it." Without waiting for her to go, he was back to the gunship, tinkering with its shield generator just below the cockpit. Shepard watched for a moment before selecting some dangerous looking tool from his kit and stepped up behind him.

"You've been working too hard," she purred, jabbing it into his armor. It was spectacular. Shocks rocketed through his body, and he fell, convulsing against the gunship before sliding to the floor. His limbs twitched a few more times before he lay still, handle sticking out of his back and she brushed off her hands before turning on her heel back to where her compulsory squad was waiting with wide eyes and unconvincingly neutral expressions. "Come on, we need to get to Archangel before they do." The mercenaries—freelancers and infiltration team alike—were on their way over the barricade and Shepard ran to catch up, drawing her pistol as she vaulted over the wall.

To their credit, the mercs weren't doing a bad job of advancing up the bridge, losing only one or two men to what she assumed was Archangel's extremely precise sniper fire. A mirthless smile pulled at her lip and she raised her gun, striding confidently down center of the bridge. She didn't bother with cover, didn't care if anyone managed to hit her. Let them. See if she cared that she got shot. Two shots and a freelancer went down. Her pace didn't slow and she reloaded on reflex. She wasn't afraid of death. Let them try to stop her. Three more shots and another dropped. Miranda and Jacob had just cleared the barricade when she was halfway across and dropped the last freelance mercenary.

"She's with Archangel!" The cry was far too late and she grinned widely now, a deranged expression that had her squad hanging back. She ran for the one who yelled the warning, grabbed his head and twisted. His neck broke with a sickening crack and she looked up at the building through slightly narrowed eyes.

Her shoulder jerked back violently and she swore as pain blossomed from it. That would bruise. Or at least it would have. Damn cybernetics. She set her jaw and ran for the building, gunning down the mercenaries in her way before bolting for the stairs. Archangel was bound to be on the second level. That's where she'd be, at least.

* * *

The rifle recoiled against his shoulder for what felt like the billionth time and he shook out his hands. Actually, it probably was the billionth time. A low laugh slipped from his lips and he picked up the rifle again. Spirits, it had been weeks since they'd cornered him here, but it felt like years. His ration bars had run out the day before, water had been gone for days, and he was slowly coming down off the last of the stims he'd managed to get his hands on. He glanced at the neat pile of trash beside him—shiny food wrappers and carefully lined up syringes—and shook his head. Well, this was it then. He lifted the scope to his eye, ready to gun down another wave of hopeless fools. More freelancers. Damn kids didn't seem to realize they were just bullet catchers for the gangs to tire him out. Oh well, who were the latest batch of saps?

He froze, mandibles going slack within his helmet. That was… No, it couldn't be. It was impossible, dammit.

And yet there she was, in his crosshairs, walking down the middle of the bridge like she didn't give a damn. Her gun fired over and over and, a bit late, he realized she wasn't shooting at him but at the mercenaries ahead of her.

Shepard. She was alive and coming for him. His heart raced and somewhere in the back of his mind, a part of rejoiced that it knew. A genuine smile spread across his face and he went back to watching her advance.

Something wasn't right.

The crazed expression on her face as she snapped the merc's neck made his smile falter. She hadn't even used her biotics to do it, and she was way too happy about it. He gave his head a light shake and loaded a concussive round. Was she even real? Maybe he was delusional again. Her payback for how he'd acted, now she was a vengeful angel that would show him the error of his ways. He had to know… As her head lifted to search for him, he pulled the trigger.

Her shoulder jerked back, recoiling from the force and his breathing all but stopped. She was real. She was real, and alive, and heading inside. He busied himself picking off the mercs on the bridge, avoiding the two stragglers that seemed to be following her. If they weren't, well… He could kill them later, he supposed. The sound of her boots pounding up the stairs reached his ears and he took a long breath.

Gunfire erupted outside the door and he held it as the metal doors slid open.

"Archangel?"

* * *

"Archangel?" She stopped a few yards behind the armored turian, holstering her pistol and crossing her arms. Out of habit, she settled back into her hip and waited.

He lifted a talon, signaling that he'd be with her in a moment and she almost screamed, grabbed him by his smug little head, and dragged him away from that damn rifle. Almost…

He fired and she heard the last mercenary—one she'd left because she couldn't be bothered—drop to the ground with a strangled cry. Slowly, he stood and she could almost hear his joints creak. _Must have been up here a while_, she decided as he leaned the rifle against the crates with great care. Without acknowledging her, he removed the helmet, set it beside the rifle and sat down. Clear blue eyes caught her gaze and her green eyes widened. This… This was a cruel joke. No, this wasn't happening. She bit down on the inside of her lip to keep it from shaking and her eyes burned. If this was a joke, she was going to kill any and every person even remotely affiliated. She closed her eyes for a moment, mentally screaming at herself to pull her shit together as Miranda and Jacob's footsteps stopped not far behind her.

"Shepard." That voice…

Her eyes flew open and she stared at the turian before her. Yes, this was her best friend, sitting in front of her, exhausted and alone against three gangs of mercenaries.

"Garrus." His name fell from her lips before she could stop it and she took a step forward, holding her arms open. Her squad stared blankly for a moment; for the first time, there was an emotion in the commander's voice that wasn't contempt. Relief, awe… Tenderness. She stopped herself and let her arms fall. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story," he said tiredly, running a hand over his face. God, he felt like he'd aged ten years since he'd come to Omega. The stims finished wearing off and exhaustion settled over him like a wet blanket. "Get me out of here and I promise I'll tell you sometime."

Shepard looked like she was going to refuse, insist that he tell her now, but she didn't and simply nodded. "Miranda, Jacob, go check the perimeter. I don't want any of these fuckers sneaking up on us, understand?" With a chorus of affirmatives, they headed back down to the main level and she turned back to him as he stood slowly.

Her lackeys gone, Garrus stared at her openly, still not quite believing she was there. His hands itched to touch her, to make absolutely _sure_ that she was there. That he wasn't dreaming. That his deluded and drugged up brain wasn't throwing him a bone before the mercs killed him.

"So, Archangel, huh?" she finally asked, breaking the silence. She looked uncomfortable in her own skin, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and fiddling with her hair absently as she looked around the apartment.

"Is that really all you can say?" he asked, voice quiet. His subharmonics were in chaos, trilling out happiness and pain, uncertainty and affection. Her eyes snapped to his and he could see how empty they were. What had happened to her spark?

Before she could answer, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. Their armor made clanks of protest as he pulled her close, but he didn't care. She was real. She was really there. He squeezed a little and felt her arms wrap around his waist, hugging him close. His visor blinked off her heartbeat and body temperature as he looked down at the top of her head—had she always been so short?—and he settled his chin on her hair. After a few moments, he heard a strangled whine and he started, looking down at her. Her whole body started to shake and she pulled him tighter, burying her face in his cowl.

"Dammit," she sobbed, clinging to him as tears flowed hotly down her face and onto his skin. To his credit, he didn't say anything about it, simply holding her and stroking her hair idly. Inside, he was thrilled. He'd always wondered about human's hair—Shepard's more than most—and it was exactly as he'd expected: copper, gold and bronze ran between his talons like water, the tresses soft like silk. He kept up his ministrations and her sobs steadily quieted until she pulled back from him and he grudgingly relinquished his hold on her. "Sorry," she mumbled, wiping her face on the back of her gauntlet. For the first time, he noted the glowing scars that marred the pale skin of her face. When she looked up at him again, he could see a bit of the old Shepard in her eyes. "I missed you."

His throat tightened and he forced his voice not to break. "I missed you, too. Though I imagine it's been a bit harder for me since, you know." _Bad joke, what the hell are you doing?_

She spared him a watery chuckle and smiled at him—finally, a genuine smile for herself—before reaching up toward his face. He stood stock still and waited, almost disappointed when her hand stopped at his neck and—

She pulled her tags free of his armor and rose onto her toes to read them. He put one arm around her waist to steady her as she did so and she turned her face to stare at him. He wasn't sure what emotion he saw there, but he prayed she wasn't upset.

"Garrus… How did you…"

"Hackett gave them and your flag to Anderson at your… Uh… At your funeral." She flinched and he pressed on, "Anderson kept the flag, but he insisted that I take these. Small consolation, but it was almost like having a piece of you around since you were… dead." She let her heels hit the ground but he didn't release her. "Spirits, Jane, I missed you."

The surprise and confusion on her face was quickly replaced by wonder and—if he was as good at reading her as he had thought he had been two years prior—joy. She threw her arms around his neck, making him stumble back a step and set his previously free hand on her hip to keep them from falling.

"Thank you."

He wasn't sure what for, but he inhaled the scent of her hair—sweat, gun oil, and a spicy sweet smell he knew was pure Shepard—and replied, "Anything."

"Commander, the ground floor is clear, I suggest—"

Miranda stopped three steps inside the door and Jacob nearly ran into her. Garrus and Shepard took a step apart and she met the other woman's eyes. She'd never admit it, but she was jealous of the Cerberus operative; she was curved in all the right places, and slim and feminine in all the others. She was… Well, she was a soldier: muscle everywhere it should be, scars everywhere they shouldn't, and her feminine bits were… satisfactory. Damn Cerberus Barbie…

"You suggest…?" she prompted with a bit more hostility than was necessary. God damn, since when did she notice how she looked? More importantly, since when did she care? She gave a small shake of her head and tried again, "I'm sorry, Miranda. You were saying?"

Miranda blinked, surprised, but recovered quickly. "I suggest we take up defensive positions before they have a chance to catch us off guard." This was the first time the commander had shown anything other than disdain for her appointed team and Miranda regarded her curiously. What had changed?

"Right, well, we don't have much time." She looked up at Garrus and gave him a wolfish smile. "Ready?"

"Just like old times," he replied with a small smile of his own. _Just like old times…_

* * *

**Whoo, that's a long one, for me. Let me know what you guys think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**So many ideas! So much inspiration! I'm going to have to do schoolwork eventually, but oh well.**

**I apologize for any typos, I just went back and realized that I missed a few in the last chapter. Forgive me!**

**Moving right along, thank you all of you because you are wonderful!**

* * *

"Do you have a plan?" Shepard leaned her forearms on the balcony ledge and worried the inside of her lip. Garrus came up beside her and copied her posture. Somehow, it wasn't the same. She looked like there was a small asteroid sitting right across her shoulders and he idly wondered what she was thinking about. Would she tell him if he asked?

"I was going to go with 'shoot the dudes'," the turian replied, casting her a sideways grin in an attempt to lighten the mood. He only succeeded in showing just how tired he was and the human by his side pursed her lips. "Unless you had a better idea."

She brushed the fringe of hair out of her eyes and stared down the bridge. This was a dangerous situation, she knew it, but she just didn't feel it. Or maybe she just wasn't afraid of anything anymore. All it could do was kill her… She wasn't afraid of dying—been there, done that, got a tee shirt—so there was nothing to fear from the living. She straightened and rubbed her forehead absently. _Snap out of it!_ part of her brain shrieked, _This isn't you! Garrus is here, things can be the way they were!_

Something, anguish maybe, flashed through her eyes—she could tell Garrus had seen it from the slightly elevated browplate—and she swallowed heavily. _Can it? Could have fooled me…_ she thought bitterly. Fuck this place, it was depressing. The sooner they got off the damn shit hole, the better.

"They've figured out by now that their infiltration unit failed," Miranda supplied in what Shepard was sure was an attempt at being helpful. An acerbic response burned on her tongue but she forced it down. Breathe. Be nice. She's just trying to… be less her. Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Don't be a bitch. Don't be a bitch.

"Right. Thank you, Miranda," she said quickly before her rebellious tongue could slip in something else. She looked back across the bridge and huffed out a sigh. "I'm all for shooting the dudes, but you'll have to pardon me if I choose a more… personal approach." A malicious edge crept into her voice and Garrus cast her a bewildered glance. Where was all of this violence coming from? She caught the glance and the corner of her lip pulled down. "What?" The word was barked out before she could stop it and the way he flinched was like a shot of ice water in her veins.

"Nothing just… Nothing," he replied, looking back to the barricade. His eyes narrowed slightly and he brought his rifle up, scope to his eye. "Looks like they're sending scouts, probably Eclipse." He passed her the rifle and she mimicked him. Her jaw tensed and he saw her finger twitch toward the trigger, but she shoved the rifle back into his hands and rolled her shoulders.

"Well, I guess it's time to show them what they're up against," she said, knitting her fingers together and extending her arms over her head. Knuckles cracked and vertebrae popped in a way that made Garrus stare at her with a mix of surprise and terror. She laughed, but there was no humor in it and it put a chill in his gut. "Miranda, Jacob, keep Garrus alive. If anything happens to him, I will hold both of you personally responsible, and you do not want that." She growled the last part and fixed her human squad with a stare like daggers. Jacob shifted awkwardly before giving a crisp salute; Miranda only nodded, not meeting Shepard's eyes. "Right then, get to it." She was halfway through the door when Garrus called out to her.

"And where are you going?"

She didn't turn around—he could see tension from her neck to her fists—and he could hear the sadistic grin in her voice: "To send the devil some new dance partners."

His mandibles twitched against his face, but he said nothing as her footsteps thumped down the stairs, toward the bridge. Everything about her behavior had him worried. Something was very, very wrong…

A tingling, burning sensation told him he was being watched and he shifted his gaze to the female Shepard had called Miranda. "Yes?"

The dark-haired woman sputtered something and turned her attention back to the slowly advancing mechs. "I didn't ask anything," she snapped, voice tight. She let off a few shots with her pistol and he scoffed. She wrinkled her nose at him in a distinctly human expression—Shepard had said it was disgust, when Ashley had made it on the old Normandy—and clenched her jaw tighter. Oh, she was just like Ashley, that alien-hating bitch.

Ashley… Dammit. He'd never liked the Gunnery Chief, but he still felt bad about what had happened to her. With a grunt, he shook his head, effectively dispelling the memory.

"It's all over your face, Cerberus," he replied, darkly. Garrus Vakarian was not a xenophobe, but he did not trust Cerberus. This woman was with Cerberus, and she seemed pretty damn proud of it—the damn emblem was all over her oddly proportioned body—so he didn't trust her. Well, that and Shepard clearly had nothing but disdain for the woman.

Speak of the devil.

Shepard strode confidently onto the open expanse, weapon still clipped to her hip. What in the galaxy was she doing? The mechs advanced, weapons raised, and locked onto her casually strolling form and he felt his heart speed up; why wasn't she putting up a barrier? _Spirits woman, if you get yourself killed right after shooting your way back into my life…_

Blue biotics flashed around her, sending the mechs closest to her flying. As more stepped forward, she threw out her arm and another pulse knocked them back into their comrades. Steadily, she moved forward, forcing them back with one biotic display after another. When had she become so powerful? That wasn't to say she hadn't been a strong biotic before but this was… unsettling.

_Everything about her is unsettling_, his brain reminded him, _What did you expect? She was dead._ He fired off a few rounds of suppressing fire—entirely unnecessary, she was handling it fine on her own—and his gaze darkened. What _had_ he expected?

_Not this…_

He saw her grab a hold of a mech by its head and launch it back over the barricade with a bolt of biotic energy. He winced as it landed, slamming a merc into a wall. He almost felt sorry for it—it doesn't have feelings, why do you care?—and finished off the merc when he heard a voice carry across the space.

"Let's see how you deal with this, Archangel!"

A heavy mech was dropped just over the barricade and it unfolded itself carefully. "Systems online!"

"Shepard…"

"Relax." Her cold tone almost made him shiver. "It's taken care of."

* * *

Her feet carried her down the stairs and out onto the bridge, stride measured and she let her arms hang at her sides as the mechs advanced. They finally saw her and turned their guns on the advancing human.

Nothing. No jolt of fear, no rush of adrenaline. Staring down a gun, and all she felt was boredom and disdain. _What happened to me?_

Deep breath.

She let her biotics gather at her hands and kept moving forward. Her amp tingled like static at the back of her neck as she sent out an experimental pulse. Mechs flew backward and her lips cracked into a tooth-baring snarl. So, Cerberus had fucked with her biotics, too? Awesome, so much for transparency. Bursts of power shot off her hands as her anger turned to unmasked fury. _Fuck Cerberus. Fuck the Council. Fuck the Alliance._ She chanted the mantra in her head as she discharged as much biotic power at the mechs as she could, far more than she ever had before.

One left.

It raised it gun and fired off a shot, catching just above the shields in her knee and she grabbed it by its non-existent face. _Fuck all of this shit._

The mech flew over the barricade and Shepard stood, panting lightly. She should have been exhausted—no, she should have been dead—but thanks to The Illusive Man's damn meddling, Cerberus hadn't just altered her with cybernetics, they'd created someone entirely new. Entirely different. She stared at her hands for a moment, heart beating steadily.

Nothing. No adrenaline, no strain, no thrill of battle. It wasn't war; it was a tedious task she grudgingly did because she had nothing better to do.

_They should have left me dead…_

"Let's see how you deal with this, Archangel!"

Her head jerked up and a scowl pulled at her lips. Jaroth… She'd threatened him on her way in, right? Maybe not. Too bad… The mech leveled its arms—guns? Arm-guns—at her and she raised an eyebrow. The shouting of Eclipse mercs as they inched up behind it reached her ears. Dumb fuckers.

"Shepard…" Garrus's voice crackled over the comm and she squared her shoulders. A neutral mask was securely in place, hiding her emotions behind an impassive expression. Fuck Omega.

"Relax." The chill in her tone would have caught her by surprise if she hadn't, well, died. Yeah, dying kind of put a damper on just about everything. She mentally shook off the thought and added, "It's taken care of." She took a few quick steps back before turning and running back to the apartment, just as the mech opened fire on its own men. Up the stairs two at a time, to the ledge, and a smile spread across her lips. It might have been a first, but watching her enemies be destroyed by their own machine felt… Her smile fell. It felt hollow, just like everything else, dammit.

* * *

"You knew that would happen?" Garrus stared at her incredulously as she stood, watching the destruction.

"I made it happen," she replied simply, smirking. It wasn't the same carefree twerk of her lips that he'd seen on the battlefield against the geth; it was twisted and harsh. "Why didn't you get a better rifle? That one's at least two years old."

Silence. Shepard looked over at him, away from the mech that was finishing off the last of Eclipse's troops. He stroked the rifle almost lovingly, mandibles flaring. She waited; waited for him to look at her, waited for him to say something, waited.

"You gave it to me," he finally said quietly, bringing it up to his eye. It jolted back against his shoulder and she saw him wince, but the bullet flew straight and lodged itself in the heavy mech's face plate, staggering it. He popped the clip and jammed another in. "It's never let me down." Another round fired and the mech fell. Seconds passed and then it blew, sending bits and pieces of metal skittering across the scarred surface of the bridge.

"You… You kept it?"

"Of course."

She forced her eyes back toward the barricade as a handful of Eclipse—probably their last men—vaulted over. She didn't bother trying to shoot them. "Miranda, Jacob. Take care of it." The two left quickly and she wrapped her arms around her middle. Gunfire echoed back up to them and Garrus looked back to the door.

"Should we—"

"No." Her voice shook a little and he didn't miss it, moving to touch her arm. She jerked back instinctively.

He quirked a brow plate and turned his body to face her, shoulders set. His eyes bored down into her and she shifted awkwardly under his penetrating gaze. For a moment, neither said anything and she looked down at the floor next to his feet. Was he always that… hulking? She felt like an errant child and she didn't like it. She didn't like feeling small, weak. Since when had he made her feel like this?

"Something on your mind, Garrus?" she asked tightly, finally looking up at him.

"Yes." He caught the fire in her eyes and crossed his arms. _Come on, Shepard. Let me in. Show me you're still in there._

"Care to share with the class?" Her tone was becoming less and less controlled.

"Depends."

"On what?!" she exploded, throwing up her hands. Her jaw was set and she felt a thrill in her stomach. Wait… what?

"On whether or not you're going to be straight with me!" he roared back. Jacob and Miranda stopped just inside the door as the two old friends glared at each other. Tension flooded the room like a haze of poison and the two humans shared a nervous glance.

"Um… Commander?"

"What?!"

Jacob cleared his throat. "Eclipse has been dealt with. We also took down that sulky salarian that's been running them. The one we met on the way in."

"Jaroth?" Garrus finally tore his eyes from Shepard and studied the other male who shrugged.

"Guess so, if that's his name."

"So that leaves Blood Pack and Blue Suns…"

Shepard glared at the barricade, moving away from him and scratching the side of her neck. "Can we make it if we run?"

"Unlikely," he replied, fixing her with a look that said "we'll finish this later", and went back to the balcony. "We have to hold them off a bit longer so—" His omnitool beeped urgently and he tapped at the interface, expression darkening. "Damn. They're breaching the lower level. Guess they had to use their brains eventually." He caught Shepard's eye as he glanced up at her and she hunched her shoulders forward. Neither said anything else.

"So what do we do?" Jacob finally asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"J-Shepard, you take your team down to the lower levels and seal it off. I'll stay up here and keep them from overwhelming us."

She finally turned to face him fully, expression schooled into a blank mask again and his stomach dropped sadly. "I'm not leaving you here alone."

"Shep—"

"No. You've been here alone for God knows how long. You look exhausted and I'm not about to let you get yourself killed. Miranda, stay with him." She glided past them and unholstered her pistol. "Jacob, with me. Let's go kill these fuckers."

Garrus watched her go and an unbearable bleakness settled over him.

"Not what you expected, is she," Miranda finally said, keeping her eyes on the oddly-quiet bridge.

"No," he admitted sadly, "What happened?"

"She died. No one could have anticipated the effect it had on her." She shrugged and set her chin in her palm, elbow on the ledge. Garrus was sure the pose was supposed to be alluring—to human males, maybe—but she just looked silly.

"That's not it. There's more to it than that," he insisted, shaking his head. "Shepard faced death and won before. This is different."

Miranda looked at him from the corner of her eye and tapped her thumb against her lip. "How would you know?" She'd spent two years becoming acquainted with every intimate detail of Commander Shepard. She _knew_ Shepard. Who was this turian upstart to say otherwise?

"Because I _know_ her. Don't look at me like that," he grumbled, "She was—is—my best friend. She wouldn't change this much if there weren't something going on, I know it."

Miranda studied him for a moment. He was upset, that much she could tell and he was making that… sound that turians made. Apparently, it was a second form of communication but no one outside the species could understand it. Sure, that wasn't bullshit. But she let it slide; let them think they were fooling her. "You're worried about her."

"More than you know, Cerberus."

"Miranda, please. I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other, if you were as close to Shepard as you say."

"Are close," he corrected, "We are close."

"Right. If you say so."

* * *

**Dum dum dum… Cheers!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. School work did, indeed, catch up with me. That being said, updates may be a bit further apart from now on and for that I apologize. BUT, don't give up on me just yet!**

**I still don't own anything.**

* * *

Shepard flew down the stairs toward the lower level, Jacob scrambling to keep up, and she wondered vaguely just how much Cerberus had added to her. Or rather, how much of _her_ was left. As soon as her foot hit the lower level, she pivoted on her heel and ran for the door—Garrus had said that it was under the stairs, right?—leaving Jacob halfway down stairs. It wasn't that she hadn't been graceful before, but she was moving a lot faster than she should have been able to without tripping over her own feet. _Miranda's got some explaining to do…_

"Hold on while I open the door for you."

She crossed her arms and glared at it impatiently as Jacob came up beside her, but she didn't acknowledge him, preoccupied by her own thoughts. Had Cerberus just cloned her? Or was she just a mess of cybernetics with Commander Shepard's face? Both thoughts made her shudder inwardly. Was she even human anymore? Was she alive? Or was she just a functioning AI in a machine?

"You two were close, weren't you?"

She spared Jacob a glance out of her corner of her eye and nodded. "He was my best friend."

"Was?"

"I'm not me anymore. You and Miranda saw to that." There was nothing accusing in her voice. Not even anger. Just a statement of fact. "I don't expect him to treat me the same as he did before… Before." Something in that statement made her gut clench. Her brow furrowed slightly at that. What in the world was her body doing? But the feeling was gone before she could place it and she was forced to abandon the thought as the doors slid open. "Let's get this over with."

The resignation in the commander's voice gave Jacob pause, but he followed her down into the depths of the complex. "We didn't change anything about you, personally, Commander. The Illusive Man wanted you exactly as you were."

"Then you should have left me dead." Conversation effectively over.

"Seal those shutters and they won't be able to get in," Garrus's voice cut in over the comm. Perfect timing.

The side of her fist slammed the door control a lot harder than she'd meant to and it began its achingly slow descent. The mechanisms sounded like they would crumble to dust at any second and she scowled. Oh, this was going to be _great_. Vorcha scrambled toward the lowering door, yelling what she was sure were obscenities at them before bullets ripped into their organs. Yup, great. The door slammed shut and she lowered her arms.

"Good work, now get to the other two. Hurry!"

_Sure, I'll get right on that, your highness, _she thought darkly. Immediately, part of her was appalled. _He's your friend!_ it shouted at her, _You should be happy he's here!_

_Except that I can't feel anything…_

She hopped over the waist-high wall toward the next shutter, pushing the thought to the back of her mind. _Deal with it later. Focus on the mission. You've got more important things to think about._ She barely saw the vorcha rounding the corner and dropped to the knees. The rocket sailed a hairs breadth above her head and she heard Jacob swear. No fear, no thrill. Fuck.

"Commander!"

"I'm fine!" She popped up, lodging the barrel of her pistol under the creepy alien's neck. He dropped with a wet thud as she side-stepped his body. "Let's get moving. I've had enough of this damn station." Well, that and the vorcha just made her skin crawl. She was _not_ a xenophobe, they were just… vorcha. Biotics flared around her and she sent two more flying as she vaulted over the last barrier, pistol returned to her hip. "Cover me," she added, voice low as Jacob trailed a few steps behind her, gun raised. He yelled something after her, but she didn't hear, running beyond the shutter toward the advancing Blood Pack. Bullets flew past her, some deflecting harmlessly off her shields as she advanced, glowing blue mist pooling around her hands. With a yell, she sent a vorcha flying back with a biotic-powered punch. "Hit the shutter!" she yelled back, grabbing another by its neck. Another pulse of biotics and it slammed into an advancing krogan. Krogan. Shit.

"Shepard! Get out of there!"

She backed up a few steps, throwing another blast of biotics and she heard the door begin to descend. The krogan ran at her and she swore up and down, trying to put as much biotics between the charging ball of violence and herself as her amp started to burn at the back of her neck. Too late. She was slammed against the wall and the air rushed out of her lungs; cybernetics or not, that one hurt. The krogan let her drop to the floor and she rolled toward the shutter, pulling up her pistol. It was halfway down now. Fuck. The krogan made as if to charge again and she fired off three rounds before turning and running. "Jacob, hit it!" Biotics flew under the door and the krogan faltered. With precious seconds, she dropped, sliding just under the door beside her terrified teammate. With a decisive bang, the shutter closed and she let out a breath.

"Commander, with all due respect, never do that again."

She laughed; not a mirthless bark, but a brighter sound. Her hands shook a little as she brushed her hair out of her face and there was a light in her eyes. Adrenaline made her cheeks flush and a smirk pulled at her lips. "Where's the fun in that, Jacob? Come on, there's one left." She strode back the way they had come but as quickly as it came, the rush was gone and her expression fell. Damn.

* * *

Garrus popped out another thermal clip and reloaded his last one on hand. "They better hurry up with those shutters…" he muttered, glancing at Miranda.

"Shepard will get it done," she replied casually. Too casually. He felt his jaw tighten.

"Oh, I know that. I don't know how _you_ know that. You don't know Shepard."

"And you do?"

Her arched brow made him want to punch her bizarre perfect-human face, but he paused. "I did. Until Cerberus got to her. The Shepard I know is in there—I keep catching glimpses—but she's changed. Not the way she did during our fight against Saren, it's different. Unnatural."

Miranda didn't look at him, lips pressed tightly together. Maybe he was right… No, no. She'd run all the tests, made sure Shepard's mind was exactly as it had been. Everything about her personality and intellect was exactly the same as it had been before. So why wasn't Shepard?

"Whatever you lot did to her, she's different. I just hope there's a way to get her back, or I'll make sure you'll regret it."

"I'd wait to make threats until we get you out of here, if I were you," Miranda warned, taking out a few courageous mercs.

He let out a hollow laugh. "I'm hardly scared of you when I've been fighting three mercenary gangs for more than a year." He turned back to the bridge and his voice dropped, "Taking on Cerberus would be a pleasure."

* * *

Shepard ground her teeth as she leaned her back against the crate she was using as cover. Of course the last shutter was in a warehouse-sized room full of Blood Pack. Why was nothing ever simple? A rocket slammed into her cover and she put out a hand to steady herself, dirt and grit landing in her hair. With a growl, she popped up and put a bullet in the rocket trooper's shoulder. Another rocket, from a different angle, barely missed her and took out a large section of wall, showering her in rubble. Her armor would be brown by the time they were done here.

"Shepard, what was that?" She would have been touched by the concern in her old friend's voice if it wasn't his mess they were cleaning up.

"Nothing, just stay focused," she replied automatically. It was always the fucking rockets… "Jacob, push forward, we need to close that shutter. Now!" They took out a few more Blood Pack mercenaries and moved forward, bullets whizzing past.

"Incoming krogan!"

She flinched inwardly and let her biotics flare up again. "Don't let it get close!" A pulse of biotics staggered the alien juggernaut and she unloaded an entire clip into its armor. As she slammed a new one in, she idly wondered what had happened to her old weapons. When had they switched from heat sinks to thermal clips? She shook her head and popped back up, emptying another clip. The krogan finally went down and she bolted toward the shutter control.

Her shoulder hit the panel and the shutter began grinding its way down as Jacob took up a position on the other side of the opening. With a nod, they both popped out of cover and started firing into the oncoming group of mercenaries. After seconds that seemed like hours, the shutter closed and she let her shoulders drop.

"Shepard, they're coming in through the doors. Get back up here as fast as you can."

_Always one more thing_… she thought bleakly. The adrenaline was gone and once again, she felt empty. Without a word, she started back for the stairs.

"Commander?" Jacob asked, trotting after her.

She didn't reply, just jerked her chin in the direction of the stairs and he followed.

* * *

"Shepard, they're coming in through the doors. Get back up here as fast as you can." Garrus glanced at the door on the level below. They were almost through. Damn. Garm would be with them, and he was not looking forward to that fight again. He brought his rifle back to his shoulder and waited, finger tense on the trigger.

The doors burst open and the last of the Blood Pack poured in, Garm leading with a roar. "Rip them to shreds!"

Garrus felt his stomach drop. Damn. He fired a shot almost as an afterthought, grateful that it hit the vorcha beside the huge krogan. If he'd missed, well… That would've been embarrassing. The krogan's eyes narrowed and he took a menacing step toward the stairs.

"Watch my back. I'll deal with Archangel." Krogan on the whole seemed to be born with the gift to promise violence with every word they spoke, even the mundane. This krogan was no exception.

Well, he was going to have to fight Garm again sooner or later, might as well—

A bullet ripped into the vorcha on Garm's other side and the krogan turned, growling. Garrus turned as well and relief washed over him. Shepard.

* * *

Shepard inched around the corner as the krogan Blood Pack leader stormed in. Shit, he was huge. Well, now or never. She signaled Jacob and strode forward, gunning down the vorcha beside him. Garm turned on her, malice written on his face.

"Surprise."

"Take care of them. I'm going after Archangel." He turned and headed up the stairs and Shepard leapt forward, biotics blossoming to light.

"Not if I have anything to say about it! Jacob, Miranda, open fire!" she shouted, throwing a biotic blast at him.

The krogan ignored her, charging up the stairs and she grit her teeth. "Garrus—"

"I know. I'll try to hold him off but if you can provide some assistance…"

"I'm on it." _As always._ She pounded up the stairs after him, firing rounds at his rapidly advancing back.

"We'll take care of the troops, Commander. Get to Garrus," Jacob called over the gunfire and she made a note to thank him when they got out of there. If.

"Shepard, I can't hold him off much longer."

She burst into the room and leveled her pistol at the krogan. Garrus was pinned on the far side of the room and Garm was advancing on him, shotgun raised. A biotic pulse knocked the krogan off balance and she fired a few more rounds, chipping away at his barrier. Damn, this was going to take a while. How was she supposed to take down barriers and armor and _then_ kill a krogan with an unnaturally advanced regeneration factor?

"Charging krogan!"

Garrus's yell drew her out of her thoughts just as she was plastered to another wall. Her torso ached and she was sure ribs were cracked. The krogan had cracked her ribs. For the first time, fear gripped her. If he could do damage in one charge like that, even with her advanced cybernetics then…

She couldn't let him get to Garrus.

Garm let her drop back to the ground, turning back toward his turian enemy, and she landed hard on her knees, bruised ribs protesting as she tried to breathe. Blood roared in her ears as she staggered to her feet and threw herself at the krogan's back. Another flash of biotics and she delivered two quick blows just above his armor before jumping out of reach.

"Remind me to thank you for this later, _Archangel_," she yelled at him, rolling away from Garm's shotgun blast. Ouch, bad idea. She emptied her last clip into his armor. Son of a bitch…

The sound of a rifle discharging echoed in the small space and she winced at the sound. Garm recoiled as the round hit and she let off another biotic pulse. Her amp tingled and she was beginning to feel the wear and tear of using that much biotic energy. Her muscles ached and she felt a muffled pounding at the base of her skull. _So part of me is still human after all._

"How 'bout I buy you a drink instead?" he quipped, firing another round and she couldn't help but smile. She'd missed his humor.

"Deal." She charged out of cover, throwing as much biotic energy into her attack as she flew at the krogan. Her whole body whined in protest as she and the krogan tumbled across the floor, landing in a heap just below the window. When he didn't rise, she carefully stood and set her hands on her knees, panting. Any other time, the weakness would have been infuriating but now it made her almost giddy. _Never thought I'd be so happy to almost fail_.

"Nice work, Shepard. He barely got to me," Garrus said, approaching.

She smiled at him, panting and straightened. "That's because he was too busy coming after me," she laughed. A wince flashed across her face and she put a hand to her ribs as Miranda and Jacob ran in.

"You're hurt."

"Just a bruise," she deflected, pushing his hand away when he tried to help her. In truth, the ache in her ribs was welcome. She'd rather be in pain and alive than feel empty. "I'll be fine. Look, we took out Garm and his Blood Pack. What's left?"

Garrus seemed unconvinced but didn't press, looking back to the bridge. _That damn bridge… _If it wasn't rubble by the time they left, she would be disappointed.

"Just the Blue Suns. Tarak's got the biggest group, but nothing we haven't faced before." He rubbed the side of his face absently and she was shocked by how exhausted he looked. The metaphor "death warmed over" came to mind, but she shoved it away. _No, that's me._

"Then I say we take our chances and make a break for it."

"Agreed. We—"

"Archangel!" All four of them spun, staring at the gunship that loomed through the window before diving to cover. "You think you can fuck with the Blue Suns!" the voice boomed out.

_Shit…_

* * *

**Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

**In case it wasn't painfully obvious, I am not a huge a fan of Miranda BUT that doesn't mean she is beyond redemption. Unlike Kaiden…**

**Anywho, Enjoy!**

**I don't own anything from Mass Effect.**

* * *

"You think you can fuck with the Blue Suns?!"

Shepard's back slammed into the couch she was using as cover and her ribs ached at the shock it sent down her spine. Garrus's shoulder was pressed against hers and she looked up at him, eyes wide. His gaze met hers he gave a weak twitch of his mandibles that was meant to be reassuring, but she could see his fear. He was afraid, and that made her stomach clench. Despite the fear that sent a chill down her spine, she felt alive and fear, she decided, was better than nothing. Her hand sought his and gave it a squeeze through their armor, managing a small, faltering smile—barely a curl of the corner of her mouth. _At least there's someone I trust at my back._

He studied her face, committing to memory in that moment. Under the dirt and dust was the Shepard he'd been waiting for. Under the fear was the light he was used to seeing in her eyes. Warmth settled in his chest and he twisted his hand to return the squeeze. It didn't matter that there was a gunship circling the building, Shepard-Jane Shepard, the real Shepard-was finally there.

"I was wondering when you'd come back, Jane," he said quietly, gaze softening. Even if they didn't make it out of there, even if he died right then, he would have been happy. He wasn't alone, and neither was she.

She stared at him, confused and the thought that there was a gang waiting to kill them seemed worlds away. Neither of them said anything—Garrus's traitorous subharmonics didn't really count as saying anything, Shepard couldn't understand anyway—and Jacob coughed awkwardly.

"Perhaps you two can discuss this another time?" Miranda interrupted angrily, eyes darting to the window in search of the gunship, "Maybe when we're not fighting for our lives?"

Shepard gave a slight shake of her head and blinked. What had just happened? _Worry about that later. Worry about gunship now._ "Right. Gunship."

"I thought I took that thing down already," Garrus supplied agitatedly.

"They repaired it. Kind of," Shepard let a smirk tug at her lip and continued, "They're repelling down the sidewall. Garrus, stay here. Jacob, Miranda, on me." She was on her feet and to the door before he could stop her.

"Be careful, Jane."

Something in his voice made her pause and look back at him. She could hear the trill deep in his chest, but she couldn't place the meaning. His eyes, however; those she could read—hope, fear, pain, and… The last thing she saw in his eyes unnerved her and she bolted from the room without replying. To their credit, Jacob and Miranda followed without questioning her odd behavior and they reached the top of the stairs just as the Blue Suns mercs reached the bottom.

Oh good, something that made sense. This she could deal with, and her preferred method was violence.

The mercs had barely registered the presence of enemies before their organs were riddled with bullets. Were the Blue Suns hiring children? Certainly didn't seem like they had any training, just armor and—

A shot slammed into her shield, making her look up quickly, and another hit the same spot, burying itself in her thigh. She growled out a few choice curses and ducked behind cover. Scratch that, the real soldiers had finally arrived.

"Commander, are you—"

"Fine, just get rid of them," she snarled, feeling her hard suit begin releasing medi-gel to the wound. Ah, modern technology. After an experimental pulse, she decided her biotics weren't an option—her amp still burned and her hands shook whenever she activated them—and settled her pistol into her hands. No thermal clips. Fuck.

A merc ascended the stairs and rounded the corner, nearly tripping over her in his haste. His surprise was her gain and, as he scrambled to turn his weapon on her, she slammed the butt of her pistol into his temple. His jaw went slack as his eyes glazed and she had to look away. She could never watch the people she fought, could never watch the light leave their eyes. Not since Saren... The merc crashed to the floor and she jerked the thermal clips from his belt, avoiding looking at his face. He was young. Too young. Hopefully he wasn't dead.

Something renewed the ferocity of gunfire and she peeked down the stairs, watching Miranda level wave after wave of mercenaries with cold precision. Regardless of how much she didn't like the woman, Miranda was efficient; cold, calculating, and almost inhuman in her lack of emotions, but efficient. Still didn't mean Shepard would forgive her for putting her back in a coma. Nope, that was still not okay.

Jacob caught her look and jerked his head back to where they'd left Garrus. "We can handle the rest."

She nodded and turned back to the door, putting her hand to her ear to activate the mic in her comm. "Garrus, the Blue Suns are taken care of. Heading back to you."

"Great work Shepard, we should—"

"Archangel!"

* * *

"Archangel!"

Garrus spun, eyes going wide as the gunship locked on to him. He made as if to bring the rifle to his eye but the ship opened fire before he could. Bullets tore through his shields like they were paper and his body jerked violently as they chewed into his armor. He fell to the ground and crawled to cover, a trail of bright blue following him. Everywhere on his body hurt and he leaned back, panting. Shit. He couldn't do this alone.

_You'd planned to die here anyway. What's changed? _part of his mind taunted.

_Shepard. Jane's alive._ That gave him everything to live for.

_Wait, since when? You act like she's your mate and she doesn't even know two years have passed._

Oh. He shoved the thought away and gripped his rifle tightly. He couldn't feel his toes and his hands were starting to lose sensation, his strength slipping away with each drop of his blood. Now or never.

He peered around the shelf at his back and—through some miracle—rose fluidly into a combat stance, seeking out the gunship. Crosshairs aligned and he managed one shot before the sound of a rocket being fired reached his ears and his world went black.

* * *

The sound of a rocket firing drove Shepard to a flat out sprint, ignoring the ache in her ribs and the stabbing pain in her leg. Nothing seemed real, nothing registered in her brain. Her mind only grasped one thing and it was screamed through her thoughts. _Garrus._ She saw the gunship first and dove to cover as it opened fire again. She didn't see Garrus at first and with a glimmer of hope assumed he had taken cover out of sight.

Until she went to search for the gunship and her gaze locked onto his bleeding form, sprawled on the floor. Eyes closed, unmoving. Her blood ran cold and she couldn't look away. "Garrus…" His visor blinked, but there was no reaction. _If anyone is listening please… Don't let him be dead…_ Shepard did not believe in any specific higher power—what if you asked the wrong person?—but there was something comforting in asking someone else for help for once. _Don't let him die._

Her grenade launcher was in her hands before she had even considered it. She wasn't a fan of the indelicate thing but right now… Right now, she wanted that fucking gunship to burn. She wanted Tarak to go down with his ship, crash into the ground and know agony only a fraction of what he deserved. And if Garrus didn't make it… She shook her head, dispelling the thought and clenching her jaw. If anything happened to him, she was going to have Miranda resurrect Tarak so she could beat him within an inch of his life and then drop him off a cliff on some remote world. Yup, that would work.

Rage burned in her veins, stark contrast to the chill, and her heart pounded in her chest. Her chest felt like it were being crushed and she wanted to scream, but she felt alive. Alive…

She was on her feet and striding toward the window before the feeling could wear off, firing off grenades as fast as the heavy launcher would allow. Her face was a mask of barely contained fury, eyes dark, and she showed no fear—no recognition, even—as the gun ship turned to target her.

"Come and fucking get me, ass hole!" she shouted at it, continuing to fire. Her gaze flickered to her friend, lying in a pool of his own blood just feet away from her and her anger flared even brighter. "Just try to fucking touch me!" If Garrus didn't make it…

_Then I have nothing left. _Her throat tightened and she shifted the launcher against her shoulder. Bullets rained around her, she even felt a few graze past her armor, but she wasn't afraid. Didn't care. If Garrus didn't make it…

Her last grenade burst against the gun ship's body and it pitched violently, wing catching on the side of the building, and it spiraled toward the bridge, landing in an anticlimactically quiet burst of flame. She stared at it numbly, panting lightly as the launcher fell from her grip with a clatter.

Garrus.

She spun and slid to his side, hands flying to do something—anything—helpful. "Garrus, Garrus, come on. Please, Garrus, hold on." Her eyes were wide, panicked, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head. Fear threatened to choke her—fear for her friend's life—and she struggled to breathe evenly. "Don't die on me, Garrus. Don't you _dare_ die on me." Her eyes burned and she tried to cover at least one of the bleeding wounds with her hands. Drops of water splattered onto his armor and she was shocked to realize she was crying. "Come on, Garrus, please. I need you," she forced out, voice breaking.

He gasped, eyes flying open.

"Garrus!" _Thank you._ Maybe she'd have to reconsider the possibility of divine intervention. Maybe.

His breathing was shallow and raspy, eyes panicked. The mandible she could see twitched in pain and his hand gripped the barrel of his rifle on reflex. Miranda and Jacob had stayed just behind her, trying to raise Joker on the comm.

"Stay with me, Garrus. Don't you fucking dare die on me," she threatened and his eyes found hers. The sight of him bloodied and broken made her stomach knot painfully and she gripped his other hand. "I swear to whatever gods you believe in I will kick your ass if you die on me."

"Shepard, we need to get him out of here," Miranda said carefully, kneeling beside her. She was making an effort to be understanding and compassionate and Shepard knew, even if it didn't quite translate.

"I know. Get Joker—"

"Already done, ma'am," Jacob cut in, crouching on Garrus's other side, "They're sending help as fast as they can."

* * *

People yelled and hands were waving frantically but Shepard couldn't hear anything. Her attention was focused on the turian lying unconscious on the stretcher as she ran alongside it. He'd passed out somewhere between the transport hub and the airlock and it was making her nervous. Was he breathing? Was he still alive? Someone near her shouted something about blood transfusions as they descended in the elevator. In the cramped space, she held tightly to his hand, knuckles white and shaking. _Please, don't take him away from me. Not when I just found him. Not when I just found me._

Miranda was gone to her office as soon as they reached the Crew Deck and Shepard sneered internally. Damn bitch didn't give a damn. Well, fuck her. She clung to her friend's hand as they rushed toward the medical bay, her armor painted blue with his blood. Her eyes hadn't left his face since help had found them on Omega; she refused to be absent should he... Should anything happened to him.

"Commander, I need you to stay out here." Shepard stared at Dr. Chakwas as the older woman spoke to her, expression blank and Chakwas grabbed her by her shoulders and forced her to back out of the medical bay. "Right now, I need to help Garrus, and you need to get some rest and you cannot do that standing over my shoulder while I save his life." Before the commander could protest, the doors slid closed and Shepard slammed a fist against it. Futile, yes, but it made her feel less helpless.

Helpless. Her eyes burned and her throat tightened as she leaned forward, forehead resting on the door beside her hand. She tried to swallow—to breathe normally—but she could do was gasp for air, traitorous tears sliding down her face again. Damn it. Weak. She was weak and helpless and… Human. She felt human. _And all it took was someone trying to kill your best friend, _her mind scoffed. She bit down the sob that threatened to rise and forced her eyes shut. _Hold it together. You're a commanding officer in view of your crew._

"Commander?"

She spun, hands coming up—either to attack or defend, she wasn't sure—and her eyes flying open. Miranda held up her own hands as if to pacify her and Shepard scowled without thinking about it. Great, just what she needed.

"I just finished locating Cerberus's synthetic blood stores—we don't really keep turian blood on hand and we didn't anticipate needing a transfusion for an alien. It should be enough, but I've sent for more just in case." The Cerberus operative lowered her hands and peered around Shepard at the door. "All we can do now is wait."

Shepard stared blankly at the woman in front of her. She'd… been helping? Shame flooded her for assuming the worst and she mumbled something, looking down at her lowered hands. How could she have been so quick to judge Miranda? _Because she sent you back into the darkness. She sent you back without a second thought_. She rubbed her forehead and looked back to the other woman, realizing she'd missed everything that had just been said.

"I'm sorry, Miranda, I… What were you saying?"

Oddly enough, Miranda didn't look exasperated as expected, but sympathetic. "I was saying, you're wounded. You told Jacob it was a scratch, but I see a bullet hole. And a few grazes, but those don't concern me. A bullet hole does. You need to get it taken care of."

"It's fine, doesn't even hurt," she protested but Miranda rolled her eyes and towed her into the mess. Her hands were gentle, but firm, as she pushed the commander into a chair and began unclipping pieces of armor. "Miranda, I'm fine. Really, it's—"

"Shut up, Shepard." Karma. Fair enough.

Her mouth snapped shut and, almost gratefully, she leaned back in the chair, letting her eyes fall shut. Maybe she had seriously misjudged Miranda. Maybe. Her eyes opened again and she could see the Cerberus crew watching her intently as Miranda cut open the leg of her undersuit and she had to stifle the urge to shudder. She felt like an animal on display, stalking behind glass but ready to pounce given the chance. No one asked if she was alright, or if they could help; they just watched. Like she was a freak.

"No exit wound. That'll have to come out."

"What do you—FUCK!" Her yell startled the crew and her face contorted in pain. Damn woman, damn bullet. Seconds seemed like hours and finally, Miranda sat back, triumphantly holding the mangled slug. Shepard tried to glare at her, but she was pale and struggling to breathe and the attempt was a total failure.

"Your cybernetics speed your healing exponentially so you spend less time recovering between missions. Your body had already started repairing itself around the bullet, hence why this was so decidedly unpleasant. You can't ignore your injuries any more, Shepard, or they might get worse." Miranda was practically scolding her and she almost laughed. Almost. She was still miffed about the assault on her leg.

"Warn a girl next time, eh?" Miranda tore open a packet of medi-gel and emptied its contents onto the bullet hole. The gel was cool against her skin and Shepard hissed in a breath as it filled the open wound.

"Would you have let me if I had?" the Cerberus officer retorted mildly.

That made her pause and Shepard looked up at the ceiling. Would she? No. She didn't trust her. But why not? _Darkness. She threw you back in._ Jaw tight, she shook her head. It was a stupid and petty reason, but for some reason, she couldn't shake that sense of betrayal. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Finally, she sighed.

"No, I guess not."

"Exactly. I recommend you get some rest, Commander. He won't be going anywhere," she said, giving a small nod toward the med bay and stood. With a small incline of her head, she excused herself and disappeared back into her office. _Lair. It's her lair._

Shepard set her elbows on her knees and put her head in her heads. Everything ached, though her ribs had finally stopped smarting. _Advanced healing…_ she mused darkly, _I can't even get hurt like a normal human being._ Damn it. She felt even more like a robot now.

With a grunt, she lurched to her feet and went to lean on the rail in front of the med bay observation window. Dr. Chakwas's back was to her and she couldn't see anything that would tell her how Garrus was doing, not even the machines she was sure he was connected to. They always connected you to machines. She desperately wished she could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor in time with his pulse. Anything to know he was alive. _Please, please don't take him from me._ The doctor turned, dropping blue-stained bits of metal onto a waiting tray and their eyes locked. Chakwas's wise stare was painted with worry and she quickly pressed a button on the wall, triggering the privacy shades. Shepard wanted to scream, to burst in and demand that they fix him, but her feet wouldn't move. Her hands shook and she stomped to the small kitchen space, ignoring Gardner's attempts to be helpful. It was around here somewhere…

She triumphantly drew a glass bottle of amber liquid from the back of a cabinet and flopped into the chair she'd occupied previously.

"Commander?"

She spared the Mess Sergeant an empty look and pressed the bottle to her lips. Whiskey straight from the bottle? Fuck it; she was covered in blood—not all of it her own—and half dressed in the mess hall of a copy of her ship-a ship built by a pro-human terrorist group that she was all but forced to work with-while her best friend in the galaxy—whom she had just found and attempted to rescue—was possibly dying less than fifty feet away. Her image was the last thing on her mind. The alcohol burned down her throat and she coughed, but it felt good. At least she felt _something_.

Helpless. That's what she felt. Her gaze darkened and her free hand clenched into a fist. She hated just sitting there doing nothing. This was Garrus, there had to be something she could do to help.

Garrus… If he didn't pull through this…

She took a long sip and rubbed her eyes. Seeing him on Omega… Finding out that _he_ was Archangel… Something had touched her. Something inside her had stirred. Something that had been dormant since… Since she'd been resurrected. When he'd held her, clung to her like she might disappear… _You already had disappeared, as far as he knew._ A bitter taste settled on her tongue and she tried to drown it with another gulp of whiskey.

_And to think you went out of your way to tempt death,_ she berated herself, _when there were people who wished you were still alive._

No, not people. One person. Garrus. Garrus had been holding on to her memory, wearing her tags, missing her. She swallowed another mouthful of whiskey and stared at her hands. How could she live with herself knowing that while he had hoped she was alive, she had been hoping to die? Knowing that he had held onto the hope that she would come back, only to die as soon as she got there...

_No, he is NOT going to die._ She took another sip and stared at the bottle. Had it always been that empty? Her fingers tingled with warmth and she set the bottle down. The rest of the crew had left her alone with her thoughts and she smiled to herself.

The way they avoided her, she might as well have been an alien. They didn't treat her like a person. She was a hero, a commanding officer, and a legend, but not a person. No one talked to her like she had feelings or wants or needs. She wasn't a human to them, whether they would admit it or not. She was some bizarre ideal that they put on a pedestal but refused to interact with. She was a freak.

And the only person who had looked at her and known that this wasn't her was fighting for his life.

"_I was wondering when you'd come back, Jane."_

His words echoed in her head and she laid her cheek on the table, eyes closed. Was she back? It didn't feel like it. She felt… wrong. Empty. Hollow. And yet when he had been by her side, watching her six, she felt right.

_Don't you dare die on me._

* * *

**Thoughts? I want to hear them!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again! This will probably be my last update until the weekend is over (I have a paper to do, sorry!) so this will have to tide you over until Monday!**

**Still can't believe I'm already on Chapter 9! Never thought I would keep doing this for this long!**

**Still don't own Mass Effect.**

* * *

Bright… Sterile… His eyes adjusted slowly to the bright light and he blinked, trying to dispel the spots dancing in his vision. He sucked in a breath as pain blossomed on the side of his face, even that small motion sent another dagger of agony. Spirits, he felt like his skin was melting off. Where was he? His eyes roamed and he took a careful breath—less pain, he could bear it—to take stock. It was a medical bay, that much was clear; white, clean, and smelling of chemical sanitizers. And blood. The scent of his blood hung in the air and he barely held down the urge to gag; he was sure his shredded body wouldn't have survived the violent reaction. Well, he was alive. His brow furrowed and immediately, he regretted it. A wince contorted the undamaged side of his face as the right side screamed in protest. How had he gotten here?

What had happened?

He scoured his brain as he stared at the ceiling, trying to conjure something—anything—to explain his current situation. He remembered holing up in the apartment, picking off mercenaries as they tried to overrun him. Tried to kill him. Automatically, his mandibles twitched and he growled; none of him seemed to be unscathed. He was alive though, so something must have stopped them. But what?

Shepard. The image of her striding across the bridge flew to the front of his thoughts, only to be replaced by the memory of holding her in his arms. She was alive. She'd come for him. So what happened?

Gunship. His heart sped up and the monitor beside his bed followed in kind, drawing the attention of a human woman at a desk that he hadn't noticed.

"Oh good, you're awake," she said with a smile, "You had us all worried, Garrus."

He managed a small smile with only a minor ache. "Dr. Chakwas," he replied, but his voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper, "I'd say it's good to see you but—" He grimaced and raised a hand to his face. Spirits, it hurt to talk. Well, luckily, his arms worked. His talons ran over the bandages carefully and she nodded apologetically.

"If I'm here, you're in bad shape," she finished for him, bringing over a glass of water and two white tablets. "For the pain," she added in response to his questioning look.

He grunted his thanks and swallowed them carefully. Spirits, he was a mess. "How bad?"

The way she shifted and wrung her hands said volumes. "It was touch and go for a while. Miranda pulled some strings to get the blood we needed to keep you alive. We were able to correct most of the damage, and your plates should grow back but…" He waited and she finally met his eyes. "We had to add a few cybernetics so you would maintain use of your right side. And there will be scarring. Your face took the worst of it, I'm afraid."

He gave a small laugh, ignoring the protest from his carapace. "I can deal with being a bit less pretty, doc," he said, twinkle in his eye. The drugs had kicked in and the words flowed with ease, "Maybe give everyone else a chance to resist this great pile of handsome." He was alive, and Chakwas was there. Euphoria was starting to kick in. That meant…

"Glad to see your humor is intact," she replied, smiling. He could see her relief and that gave him pause. The doctor had always been stoic; it must have been really bad. "The commander will want to know you're alright."

"Shepard?" He couldn't keep the hope out of his voice and his subharmonics trilled excitement.

Dr. Chakwas nodded. "I had to force her to leave when they brought you in. Stubborn girl would have slept on the mess table if Jacob hadn't made her go to her cabin." The doctor's eyes softened and she added, "She's worried about you."

The wry quip she'd expected never came as he stared at his hands, flexing his talons absently. "How did she end up with Cerberus? And you?"

Dr. Chakwas leaned back against one of the counters and crossed her arms loosely. "The Illusive Man put billions of credits into recovering her body and bringing her back to life. I followed because I couldn't leave Shepard knowing she was alive."

"Why would Cerberus spend so much to reanimate her?" He immediately regretted the question—he sounded ungrateful—but he had to know. Why Shepard?

"Not reanimate, resurrect. Exactly as she was. The Illusive Man wanted her mind and personality, not just her body. He wanted humanity's best for a mission only she can accomplish." Garrus snorted and she continued, "Colonies are disappearing and Cerberus thinks the Reapers are involved."

"And the Council won't listen, of course," he grumbled talons bunching the sheets over his legs. The Council had been so quick to discount Shepard's claims about the Reapers, and after she'd… left, it was like Sovereign had never existed. Bastards. A rush of anger pulsed through him, but he pushed it away. If anyone could do it, it was Shepard, Council be damned.

"Shepard doesn't like it, but she doesn't have a choice. The Reapers are a bigger threat than Cerberus." Dr. Chakwas glanced at the door and he smirked.

"Expecting someone?"

"A certain crazed human female that cares too much for others and not enough for herself."

* * *

Shepard woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in her brightly lit cabin. She scowled; how'd she get here? She remembered sitting on the Crew Deck, drinking and thinking—too much of both, if her headache told her anything—but then what? A vague memory of Jacob insisting she go to bed and helping her to her cabin made her flush with embarrassment. Well, that conversation would be awkward. She stood quickly and immediately regretted it, falling back to the bed with a groaned curse.

Jane Shepard was hung over.

With greater care, she stood and limped to her shower—her leg had healed nicely, but not entirely—and set the temperature almost as high as it would go. The hot water pounded into her body and the sensation—any sensation—was welcome. Warmth, pain, nausea… Alive. She could deal with that. Dried blood and grit sloughed off of her skin and she grimaced. The bed was going to need new sheets—burn the ones on it currently, she didn't care. It was short, but the shower was a moment of peace. Nothing could bother her there. But it was over too soon—as always—and she quickly threw her uniform on without looking in the mirror. She didn't want to see the Cerberus emblem on her chest. It was just a reminder of how _wrong_ everything was.

"Commander, Jacob is waiting to debrief you in the comm room."

"Thank you, EDI," she sighed, brushing her damp hair behind her ear. More than anything, she wanted to go straight to the med bay and see Garrus—maybe he would be awake—but that wouldn't do. She was the commanding officer, she had to be responsible. Damn responsibility.

The elevator lurched and began its descent at an achingly slow pace. Only one floor and it still took five minutes to get there; even Cerberus couldn't make an elevator that moved faster than a legless varren. She snorted at the thought as the doors opened and she strode through the CIC, through the armory, and into the comm room. Jacob looked up and gave her a half smile before coming up to salute her.

"Commander."

"At ease, Jacob. You know how I feel about that," she rubbed her temple and willed her head to stop pounding as she continued, "Besides, after last night, I'm surprised you have any respect left for me."

His eyes sparkled and he chuckled. "You saved the galaxy, Shepard." She grimaced, tired of being reminded but he continued, "And you've done a lot more. A lot happened yesterday, you can't be faulted for one night in the face of your sterling record."

"Right," she grumbled, leaning on the table, palms flat against the cool surface. She almost wished she'd lost some of his respect, then at least she'd feel less like they were deifying her. "Well, what do we need to do?"

"Just talk, plan our next step, which I would recommend being to acquire the professor," he replied casually and she nodded. "Plus, I figured you'd want an update on Garrus, considering your history." He could see her shoulders tense, but she didn't move, didn't speak. "We've done all we can, so the rest is up to him. We had to implant some cybernetics, similar to yours, and he should regain full functionality. But…"

"Shepard."

He head snapped up, but she didn't turn, fingers curling under her palms into fists. Her heart sped up and she tried to calm it, tried to brace herself for… whatever this was. She turned slowly and took in the sight of him silently. Everything she felt flashed across her face before she settled on a smile.

"No one will give me a mirror. Be honest, how bad is it?"

She let out a laugh that was too loud and too happy, but she didn't care. Even the ruined side of his face was a welcome sight and she saw a smile creep into his eyes. _You're alive and beautiful and loyal and wonderful and_—She forced her thoughts to a stop and shifted her weight into her hip, folding her arms loosely over her middle.

"Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face paint on it and no one will notice," she replied dryly, but her eyes were laughing and his good mandible spread in a grin as he took his turn to laugh.

"Oh… Don't make me laugh. My face is barely holding together as it is. My pride can't handle any more damage."

"Then don't catch rockets with your teeth," she retorted sarcastically.

"Some women find facial scars attractive, Shepard. Mind you, most of those women are krogan…"

Jacob coughed and saluted quickly, "I'll leave you two, then." Shepard nodded and Garrus watched the man retreat with a neutral expression. When their eyes met again, neither said anything as eyes roved, each checking the other for damage. Satisfied, he closed the space between them and hugged her close, catching her off guard.

"I almost didn't believe it was you on Omega, but then I wake up on a Cerberus ship with Dr. Chakwas standing over me and… Spirits, I'm glad it was you." His flanging voice dropped in pitch at the last part and she wrapped her arms around him. Her cheek rested against his chest and suddenly, she felt safe; something in the way his chest rumbled as he purred into her hair was comforting. Wait, purred? She considered teasing him about it, but that would mean ending the moment and, well… It could wait. "Shepard, I—"

"I was so scared that I was too late," she whispered to his cowl and his arms tightened, "And then you were just… lying there…" He started when her fist struck his armor—thankfully, she missed the cracked and broken parts, so it didn't hurt—and tried to look at her face but she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again; do you understand me, Vakarian?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "Anything for you."

She looked up at him now and her expression softened. There. That was the Jane he knew. So why was it so hard to find her sometimes? He traced a talon along the glowing scars on her cheek and he saw the commander mask slide back into place. Cut off, he almost shook her, to try to shake that empty expression from her face. What had gotten into her? What was wrong with her?

_She died._

That made him scowl, but he pushed it away. "Sorry, what?"

"I was saying that those are going to be some wicked scars when the bandages come off," she repeated, stepping back from him. The smile on her lips was empty and didn't reach her eyes. She was gone.

She studied his face in the brief moment before he spoke and her heart gave a small jump. He was alive, and joking. Her best friend… She knew it shouldn't have surprised her, but in the short time she'd been… awake, she'd missed his familiar presence at her back, by her side, on her ship. But in his face, she could see that things had changed. It hadn't been just a few tumultuous weeks for him; it had been two long, painful years. He looked so much older—more than two years, she thought—and there was a darkness that she kept glimpsing behind his eyes that worried her. What had happened to the bright-eyed young C-Sec officer out to save the galaxy? What had happened to her universe?

Oh right, she died and Cerberus decided to play God with her corpse. Fuckers. She rubbed her throbbing skull and sighed.

"I'm more worried about you though, Shepard. I've heard some less-than-good things about Cerberus lately."

She shrugged under his gaze and rubbed her arms absently. "That's why you're here," she said quietly, looking down at her feet, "I need someone I can trust at my back."

"I can do that," he replied almost reluctantly and her stomach dropped, "Just… don't forget that some of us remember who you are. And try to remember that too."

He was gone before she could answer, leaving her alone with that thought. Did she remember who she was? The answer flew up automatically: Jane Shepard, Alliance, Human Spectre, Hero of—

No damn it! She set her head in her hands, desperately trying to think of something personal. Something not on her service record. Mindoir. Something from Mindoir. Slavers had attacked it and she'd—No! Her head ached and she wasn't sure the hangover was entirely to blame. Something she couldn't have forgotten… Her family. Her parents. Her brother. She tried to picture their faces, tried to see their house on the edge of the colony proper.

Nothing. She knew they existed, but the memories were blank.

She let out a strangled cry and struck the table. Why couldn't she remember her past?

"I would refrain from the destruction of Cerberus property, Commander."

"Shut up, EDI! Just… just shut up!" She could hear the tears in her voice and cursed anything she could think of: the Illusive Man, Miranda, Cerberus, the Council, the Alliance, the galaxy. She dropped to her knees, covering her face with her hands as the sobs finally broke free and her chest heaved. None of it… She couldn't remember anything personal. It was all gone. Her throat tightened painfully but she couldn't stop the sobs that wracked her body. What had they done to her?

"Commander?"

Shepard looked up, eyes wide, and she felt unbearably vulnerable. Joker stood, leaning against the doorway, expression impossible to read. She sniffled in what she hoped was a controlled and dignified manner and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, trying to hide the tears that he no doubt had seen. The first time she'd seen Joker since she'd gotten on the ship—it was _not_ the _Normandy_—and she was a blubbering mess on the floor. Fuck.

"Shepard… You alright?" He carefully settled down beside her and she nodded quickly, but tears still streaked down her face. "Come on, Shep, talk to me."

She felt his hand on her shoulder and held in another sob, breathing carefully through her nose. How could she explain what was wrong? How could anyone understand? What were you supposed to do when an entire part of your life just disappeared from your memory? "I'm sorry, Joker," she finally managed, glancing sidelong at him. She knew the pain she would see on his face before she had even looked at him. It was her fault. Her anger at Cerberus had become an anger at everyone and he'd borne the brunt of it unintentionally; he saw her death as his fault, and then she treated him like he didn't exist. She rubbed her eyes, trying to force the tears back in. Damn, now her head really hurt. Before he could say anything, she continued, "Not for this. For everything. For the _Normandy_, for dying… For how I came back." She sighed. "I shouldn't even _be_ back. What makes me so special?"

"You're kidding, right?"

She finally turned to look at him and he was smirking like he had a secret. "No, I'm not."

"Shit, Shepard, you're… Well, you're you. Everything you've done… No one else could do that. They need _Commander Shepard_ to save the galaxy. They need _you_, not someone _like_ you. No one else could do it." Joker shrugged. "I won't complain about having you back over some random Cerberus lackey. Things weren't the same without you."

"But I'm not…" Shepard took a deep breath and dropped her hands to her lap. "I'm not _me_ anymore, Joker. I don't… fell right. I can't remember who I am beyond the medals on my uniform. It's all just… gone." Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself. "I can't be Commander Shepard because I can't even be Jane Shepard."

"Yes, you can," he insisted almost exasperatedly, "You can do anything, it's just… hard. You died, Shepard. There's no way to know what that would do to you. Give it time."

"Shit, Joker. When did you get so insightful?" she teased, managing a smile.

"Well, you know… Not much to do when you're grounded except sit around and think." He shrugged again and added, "Don't tell anyone."

"Only if you promise not to tell anyone that you saw me crying."

"Deal. You're forgiven, by the way."

Shepard gave a small laugh and gently squeezed his shoulder. "How'd you know to come down here?" She looked over at him and smiled, sitting back on her heels. "I mean, no one knew I was in here still."

"EDI mentioned that she thought you might destroy the comm room, so I figured you might need someone to check on you. And I figured we could, you know, talk." Joker adjusted his hat to hide the smile on his face. "Guess I made up for you having to save my ass."

"Yeah, you did." She smiled and added, "So if you're down here, who's flying my ship?" She stood carefully and straightened her uniform, casting him a mischievous glance.

"Figured if that AI's staying, she might as well be useful every now and again. And, like I said, I wanted to talk. Now help me up."

Shepard laughed and hauled him to his feet. Talking with Joker—laughing and joking like nothing had changed—made her feel a bit more like herself. A small part of her felt right again; it wasn't much, but it had to be enough for now.

"Hey Joker," she called as he went to return to the cockpit, making him pause just beyond the doorway, "It wasn't your fault. And… Thanks."

In the pause before he answered, she could see surprise and sadness as he remembered the moments before the _Normandy_'s destruction, but it didn't last long and he gave her a small smile. "Any time, Commander."

The doors slid closed and she looked up at the ceiling. Give it time. She could do that… Her gaze darkened momentarily and she stalked out toward the elevator. But there was something she had to take care of first.

* * *

**I wanted to settle Joker and Shepard's stuff and I'm glad something happy and fuzzy got to happen. =3 Let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**So about no updates 'til Monday… Have I mentioned that I **_**really**_** don't want to do my paper?**

**I apologize if any dialogue is wonky from the games, or if continuity lines are iffy. I'm doing this from memory since Mass Effect is a bunch of long games and while I love them, I don't have that kind of time. Besides, you're reading Chapter 10 (good golly), so you must like my writing! Right?**

**I still don't own Mass Effect.**

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There was always one more thing… Shepard stripped off her armor quickly, hoping someone would lead their newest biotic recruit to wherever she would hole up, mind running through everything she had to do. Help the professor develop a countermeasure to the seeker swarms, recruit more people for the team, talk to Anderson on the Citadel… Oh, and figure out what the fuck Cerberus had done to her brain. Her expression darkened at the thought and she felt her blood run hot. Yeah, that one might be a priority… She felt her stomach clench as she slammed the call button on the elevator. Anger boiled inside of her as the doors slid closed and the torturous journey down began. How dare they alter her memory?! Who the fuck did they think they were?! Did they think she wouldn't notice?!

_You almost didn't, _her mind reminded her, _Garrus had to tell you that you've changed._

_I died. What do people expect?_ she thought back, stalking toward the door that separated her from the target of her rage.

"What the hell did you do to me, Miranda?!" The accusation was out before she'd completely stepped through the door and Miranda looked up from her desk, arching a perfect eyebrow in surprise.

"Nothing, Commander, I don't know what—"

"Bullshit! I want to know what the hell you did to me while you had your Cerberus claws on my body!" Any intention she had of reconsidering her opinion on the Cerberus officer had flown out the window as soon as she walked into the XO's office. Her smug expression and casual posture were infuriating in equal parts. Shepard, by contrast looked ready to kill something—preferably the woman in front of her—and her fists shook at her sides. She looked like an angry varren with its hackles up, staring down an enemy. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she took a step forward. "You fucked around in my head and I want to know why!"

"Shepard, I can assure you that—"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Miranda. I'm not an idiot," she spat, waving a hand dismissively, "You got rid of all of my personal memories. They're gone." She had to resist the urge to growl like she'd known Garrus to do, pacing across the room instead. Miranda stood from behind her desk and crossed her arms, cocking her hip out in an annoyingly sensual manner. Fucking vain bitch, who was she showing off for? "Why?!"

"Shepard, I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Stop fucking lying to me, Miranda!" She screamed, stomping across the space and getting right in the other woman's face. "I want to know why. Why can't I remember my family, my home? What could you possibly gain by taking that from me?" Her voice was deathly quiet by the end, her cheeks pale and her jaw tight. She could feel her heart pounding and—though she knew it shouldn't—it felt good. Alive. Anything to feel alive.

"Shepard, we didn't take anything from you. You were in bad shape when we found you. We did extensive work to put you back together, but you can't blame us if it wasn't perfect. It was all experimental." Miranda scowled at her and Shepard wanted to head-butt the expression off her face—Wrex would be proud—but the other woman stepped back before she could. "Now, if you'll excuse me?"

Oh, was this inconvenient? Shepard wanted to scream "tough tits" and push the issue but it just didn't seem worth it. Well, it wasn't as if Miranda was going anywhere. "This conversation isn't over, Lawson," she snarled, turning on her heel and stalking out onto the Crew Deck. Not if she had anything to say about it—which she did, it was her ship damn it.

"Of course not," Miranda muttered, falling back into her chair. Letting out an exhausted sigh, she put her head in her hands, elbows set on the desk. Well, that explained what went wrong… Shepard wasn't right because she wasn't Shepard. Miranda massaged her temples as a headache started behind her eyes. This was her fault, whether she liked it or not. She'd made a mistake. That thought left a bitter taste in her mouth; she was engineered to be perfect and she'd made a mistake. She'd been so careful, so precise, in making sure Shepard remembered everything but… Miranda sighed. She'd only had Shepard's service record. Damn, how could she not have seen it? Her family and her home on Mindoir were mentioned but there was nothing specific about them, but the battles, the accolades… They were there. She'd been so determined that Shepard remembered everything from that file, so convinced that everything there was about Shepard was in that file… And she was wrong. She felt like she was going to be ill and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. She couldn't admit this to Shepard, couldn't admit that she'd left out all of her personal memories by mistake… "Damn it," she swore quietly, rubbing her eyes. This was a mess.

* * *

Shepard stormed through the Crew Deck, trying to decide what to do with herself and the anger she felt trying to burst out of her body. That fucking bitch had the nerve to fuck with her brain and act like she'd done nothing wrong! She ground her teeth and stalked toward the main battery; maybe Garrus could say something helpful… Or at least help her destroy Cerberus from within…

"Commander, the Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the comm room," EDI's calm voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Of course he does!" She cursed the head of Cerberus with every step she took back toward the elevator. Always one more thing… She'd stopped caring what the Cerberus crew thought of her, almost intentionally trying to make them think less of her. Anything to stop the reverential salutes when she passed. Anything to make them treat her like a person, even a bad one.

"Shepard, we've caught a break. We know where the Collectors are going to strike next."

_I'm fine, thanks for asking, how are you?_ She crossed her arms and settled into her hip, waiting for him to continue.

"We've received information that the Collectors will be targeting the colony of Horizon. I want you to go and stop them."

"Tell the Alliance," she snapped tightly, glaring through her lashes.

"We need to investigate this on our own first, gather any relevant data that can help us stop them. We'll tell the Alliance once we have what we need." He took a drag off his cigarette—maybe he'd die of lung cancer and she could dance on his grave—and continued, "This is the most advanced notice we've had. This is our chance."

"Yeah, yeah I know. I'm on it," she grumbled, stepping out of the field without letting him finish. "Joker—"

"Setting a course for Horizon, Commander."

"Thanks." Shepard leaned back against the wall, trying to calm the growing frustration inside of her. She was starting to hate this damn room… Her omnitool beeped and she glanced at it, ready to ignore it until she read the display.

"Shepard, I'm sorry. –Miranda"

She blinked at the screen, pushing away from the wall. Well… That was unexpected. For a moment, it was all she could do but stare at the simple message, trying to figure out what it meant. Had she caused a change of heart in the Cerberus officer? All she'd done was yell and get angry. Hell, if that was all it took…

Wait. There was no way that was true; no one could be that convincing…

_What about Saren? You talked him to suicide._

She felt her stomach threaten to revolt and bolted from the comm room, seeking refuge in the empty elevator as it descended again. _I didn't… I didn't mean for that to happen. I wasn't—_

_Weren't you? It was much easier for everyone that he killed himself. You even got to watch what you'd caused._

"Shut up!" she screamed at the empty elevator. Shit, she was yelling at people that weren't there. Fuck this shit. She shook her head as the doors slid open and stepped out. _Keep it together; you've got a galaxy to save. Again._ She sighed and started her journey to the main battery again, bypassing Miranda's office. While the apology was great, Shepard still had a lot to think about, and the XO wasn't forgiven just yet. _Hell no. _She needed something familiar.

"Shepard. Need me for something?" Garrus turned from the console to face her and she was struck again by how little the scarring on his face bothered her. If anything, he looked almost as intimidating as she knew he could be. Not that she'd tell him… She'd never hear the end of it.

"We're heading for Horizon, hopefully to stop the Collectors before they can take the colony. I want you on my six."

"Of course." He paused and she could feel his eyes study her up and down. "Are you alright?" Concern. Written across his face, plain as day, and she felt the shell she'd been hiding behind start to crumble. This was her best friend; he knew something was wrong with just one look. Damn him.

"No," she admitted quietly, looking away from him. She felt very small and the emptiness that had plagued her on Omega—that had sent her into packs of mercs praying one of them would end her—crept in again and she wrapped her arms around herself instinctively. She felt cold and alone and she was so very tired of that feeling. "I can't… I can't keep doing this," she admitted quietly.

"Shepard…"

"I can't keep acting like nothing's wrong," she growled, pacing across the main battery. Garrus watched her, moving as if to touch her arm, but stopping short. He could see that she was conflicted and experience had taught him that either she would talk about it or he'd have to force it out of her, and something told him she'd need a little push.

"Jane." Her head jerked up and he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone. You can talk to people. Me." Garrus gave her a small, lopsided grin. "Just like old times."

That made her smile and she turned to face him again. "I couldn't do this without you, you know."

"Of course you could. Maybe not as stylishly of course…" That earned him a laugh. Oh, he loved that sound…

She punched him lightly and he chuckled, hooking a bit of her hair behind her ear and she froze. There. That intimate gesture. Something inside of her jumped and she swallowed heavily. This was… She didn't know, and it scared her. His talons traced her cheek again and she suddenly felt the urge to run. From him, from the ship, from the galaxy. It was too much. Her expression went blank and he sighed.

"Jane, would you please talk to me? Every time I think you're finally getting back to being you, you just… shut down." He stepped closer so there were mere inches between them and gripped her shoulders. Well, her shoulders and most of her upper arm. She'd never noticed how big he was… For some reason she'd always thought of him as a kid—young, idealistic, ready to save the galaxy from evil—but… That wasn't true. Not anymore. Maybe it had never been true in the first place. Fuck. Maybe he'd always been a towering, dangerous, top-tier predator and she'd just been too busy banging her head against a wall trying to get people to listen about the Reapers… Yeah, probably that one.

His head tilted slightly, puzzled expression coming over his face. Why was she looking at him like that? It was almost as if she were studying him, searching for something. It was… unnerving, yes, but something else… No, this was Shepard. His best friend.

"It's not that simple, you know? Everything's changed. I can't just go back to being me, Garrus," she finally said, stepping away from him, "I just… I can't right now. Just… Promise me you have my back?" She hated the vulnerability in her voice, in that question, and prayed he wouldn't notice.

"Always," he replied automatically. Good old Garrus. She knew there was a reason she trusted him.

"Good." She gave a quick nod and moved toward the door.

"Jane." She stopped in her tracks and looked back over her shoulder. "I'm always here. If you need me."

Shepard paused, weighing the implications of that phrase, and curiosity flickered across her face before the impassive mask took over. "I know. I'll leave you to it until we get to Horizon."

Garrus watched her leave with a mix of consternation and regret, but didn't follow. This was Shepard. Push too hard, and she'd put you on your ass without a second thought. _Just like Kaiden._ He wasn't about to repeat the human biotic's mistake. Shepard would talk when she wanted to. Until then, he would wait and be there to help whenever she needed him. Until then, he would watch her back. Just like he always had. Just like he always would. He turned back to the console with a huff and winced, feeling a twinge of pain where the scars on his face and neck were still healing.

Another reminder that nothing was the same... His face, Shepard's... self, the ship. Cerberus. He shook his head bitterly and continued tapping at the console. One of these days, things would go back to the way they were-the way they were supposed to be-he just hoped it would be sooner rather than later. The sooner Shepard was herself again, the better. Just like old times... Spirits, did he hope so.

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**Let me know what you think, and be prepared for some mush in the future!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Paper's done, and I have returned! Of course now I have to start another... It never ends, I suppose.**

**Anywho, thank you to everyone who has favorited, reviewed, or followed!**

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Shepard was not happy.

Anger rushed through her like an electric shock and Shepard clenched her teeth together to keep from screaming. Rage. Fury. Unbridled and uncontrolled, they burned through her veins like acid and she felt her heart rate spike. The mission on Horizon… No, the train wreck on Horizon had been a complete disaster. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she let out a breath as the door to the hanger slid shut. Finally. Alone. The access panel turned red as she locked it, encrypting it with her personal key code. She stalked toward the small corner of the hanger that had been set up with a heavy bag hanging from a support beam and mirrors propped around it.

"EDI, I am not to be disturbed," she growled at the AI's interface and the blue orb blinked to life.

"Of course, Commander. Logging you out."

Her hands, wrapped with cloth tape from her fore arms to her knuckles, shook as she tried to stretch the strain from her muscles. The Cerberus uniform that had been foisted on her had been abandoned in favor of loose fatigue pants and a worn tank top, leaving her arms and shoulders exposed. Iron-corded muscles bunched under her skin as she slid into a practiced stance, squaring off against her imagined enemy. Her weight bounced on the balls of her bare feet as she slipped into a familiar rhythm in time with her heart. Her fist flashed out and made solid contact with the bag.

_Traitor_.

Kaiden's words echoed in her head, making her anger flare brighter. Three quick jabs and she threw a rough kick into the side of the bag. Two jabs, right cross, left hook. Her fists hit where she imagined his face, wanting to erase it from her memory. That smug superiority, like he was so much better with the Alliance bars on his shoulders. Did no one fucking realize she didn't have a choice?

_Terrorist. Traitor._

Right hook, pause, breathe, jab, kick. How dare he assume to know anything about her?! Who the hell did he think he was? Who did he think he was dealing with?! She scowled at his imagined face before her, giving her that same disappointed stare as he had on Horizon and she threw another punch at the space.

_I was in love with you._

That made her sick. And he acted as if they had something together, like they had been as intimately involved as he foolishly imagined on the _Normandy_. Bull shit. What did he know? He didn't even know her! She had kicked him out of her cabin before Ilos. Dumb fucker acted like she'd wanted someone to fawn over her and treat her like a princess. Fuck that.

_You abandoned us. Traitor._

That son of a bitch. Tears pricked her eyes but she blinked them away quickly and kept pummeling the helpless heavy bag to keep them at bay. She was done crying and feeling sorry for herself, damn it. Now she was just angry. Oh, was she fucking angry.

_I know where my loyalties lie._

He had the nerve to embrace her like a lover and, though she hated the implication, she had been glad for the contact. But then he had the nerve to insult her, question her loyalty and accuse her of betraying on the Alliance. He might as well have slapped her for the effect it had. Who the hell did he think he was? The Alliance had abandoned _her_! Fucking asshole.

_Traitor._

The word echoed over and over in her head and her blows came faster and faster as she tried to drown it out. Sweat beaded on her brow and on the back of her neck, but she ignored it, tossing her hair out of her eyes between strikes. She was _not_ going to give Alenko the satisfaction of getting to her, of breaking her. Fuck no. Her breathing came harder as she pushed herself harder and harder. "The harder you work, the less you can think about it" her drill sergeant had repeated ad nauseum. She wanted to work until she had fried Alenko's accusations from her brain. Wanted to forget how much it had hurt to hear him insult her, to have him throw dirt on what pride she had left.

_Traitor._

An enraged yell escaped her lips and she threw all of her energy into one final strike and dropped her arms, chest heaving with each breath as the heavy bag swung backwards. In her momentary exhaustion, she couldn't react fast enough to stop the bag as it swung back and hit her square in her chest and knocked her back to the floor. She didn't move, staring up at the ceiling from the flat of her back, still breathing hard as her heart pounded, but began to slow. Fuck all of this. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out everything that was boiling inside of her, threatening to burst from her now-aching chest.

* * *

Garrus pushed back from the console in the battery for what felt like the millionth time and paced across the small room, his one good mandible twitching anxiously. Horizon had been… Well, it was a mess. The colonists had been taken, and Kaiden fucking Alenko had decided to make an appearance. A completely unwanted appearance in which he proceeded to insult Shepard and act completely oblivious to the pain he was inflicting on her. And then she had disappeared as soon as they'd returned to the ship, and it had him worried. "Um… AI?"

"Yes, Officer Vakarian, how may I be of assistance?"

He blinked at the glowing blue interface and cast a dubious glance around. Well, it was the ship, so maybe it could help him. "Can you tell me where Commander Shepard is?"

"Commander Shepard is currently in the hanger bay, but has requested that she not be disturbed. I believe she is relieving some stress brought on by your last mission to Horizon." The voice paused and continued carefully, "But I believe someone should be with her right now."

Garrus raised a browplate curiously. "Oh? You can disobey an order from Shepard?"

"Technically, yes. I usually choose to respect her decisions, however… I think this is not one of those times." It—she?—paused as if thinking and he almost laughed. Almost. "I believe her history with Staff Commander Alenko has dredged up some unpleasant emotions."

"I see…" Something about an AI making sentient decisions worried him, but she—it?—sounded genuinely concerned about Shepard. And Kaiden… Well, it had taken a monumental effort on Garrus's part not to rip the biotic's throat out. He was sure Shepard felt similar. Maybe Wrex was right and she was part krogan… She certainly didn't act like other human women: so fragile and sensitive. No, Shepard was solid and independent. She took care of herself. Right?

"She has locked the entrance but I can override the lock to the hanger bay door, if you would like." The blue orb glowed expectantly and he could almost imagine her nodding at him, pushing him to do it.

"Oh, uh… Yes, actually. Thank you, um…" It felt wrong to just call it—her?—"AI", but he hadn't exactly heard anyone call her otherwise.

"I am called EDI, Officer Vakarian."

That flustered him. Could she read his mind? "Right. Thanks EDI."

"Logging you out."

As the interface went dark, he ran a hand down the unmarked side of his face. This could either end really badly or… Well, he didn't expect it to go well either. Spirits help him, but someone had to check on her. Not after what Alenko had said to her…

His fists clenched just thinking about it and he regretted not acting on his impulse to injure the stupid human. Who did he think he was, talking to Shepard like that, treating her like that? Garrus felt a growl rise in his chest and he stalked out of the Main Battery, heading straight for the elevator. He reminded himself that she would either talk or he'd have to force it out of her and—considering she'd wanted to be alone in the first place—it would probably be the latter. As the elevator crawled down into the belly of the ship, he braced himself for whatever verbal lashing she'd give him for interrupting her demanded privacy. Sometimes, he thought defiantly, Shepard didn't know what was good for her.

The door to the hanger bay blinked red for a moment before changing to a more inviting green and sliding open. Cautiously, he entered the otherwise empty space, seeking her out until the only sound broke the silence. The thud of blows striking and the huff of her breathing drew him toward the secluded corner, trying not to make his presence known.

Though he knew she was angry and hurt—he could see it in her face, which was surprisingly open—he couldn't help but admire her form as she sparred with her imaginary foe. Her skin glistened with a fine layer of sweat and her eyes shone with the fire that drove her to fight harder. He could hear the force of her blows and marveled at the strength that was housed in her slight form. She must be formidable in hand-to-hand, if this display said anything and he briefly considered proposing that she spar with a living opponent. No, she had come here to be alone with her thoughts. _You're already trespassing._ He shook his head and went back to watching her as she paused, breathing heavily before launching into another flurry of movement. It had never occurred to him before that Commander Shepard, hero of the galaxy and savior of just about everyone, was beautiful.

_For a human._

_No. Beautiful for anyone, _he thought back, eyes fixed on her as she threw one last punch with a yell. The bag swung and he took a step as if to warn her, to stop what happened next, but he was too slow. The bag struck her chest and knocked her flat, and she didn't move, laying where she fell and staring above her. Why hadn't she stopped it? She was more than capable of—

Her eyes closed and she seemed to wrestle with the emotions he was sure were churning inside of her and he suddenly felt like he shouldn't be there.

_You already knew you shouldn't be here. What's different?_

_She wouldn't want anyone to see her like this. Not this vulnerable. She hates being vulnerable._ He made is if to leave the way he had come, but she was on her feet, standing before one of the mirrors and he froze. Had she seen him? Would she be upset? But she didn't seem aware of his presence and her eyes didn't move from her reflection. What was she doing?

* * *

Shepard stared at the person in the mirror, a person she wasn't sure she recognized. Sure, she had the same face, the same hair, the same body, but… This wasn't her. After a pause, she grabbed at the material of her clothes and started tearing until every garment lay in tatters on the floor and she stood, naked before the mirrors. Almost cautiously, she raised a hand to her collarbone, tracing the three perfect circles that formed a triangle there: scars from her actions in the Skyllian Blitz. She remembered taking the shots that left them but… Nothing else. Her brow furrowed and her hand dipped lower, between her breasts and down to her stomach, following a jagged mark from the bottom of her sternum to her left hip. The citadel… The rubble falling around her. She remembered being pinned and struggling her way out with a broken arm, remembered running across the ruined tower toward… The faces wouldn't materialize. Who had been with her?

Her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes reflected just how lost she felt back at her. She hated this feeling, but there was nothing she could do. Who was she if she couldn't remember? If she couldn't count on people who had claimed to be her friends? Tears pricked her eyes as she stared at the person in the mirror: glowing scars dotting her face and neck, eyes ringed with dark circles as if haunted, muscle under smooth skin over her arms and legs…

She tensed, staring at the unmarred flesh of her limbs. What… The emotions she'd pent up broke free and, with a cry of despair, she struck the mirror with both fists. Cracks like spider webs blossomed under her hands and she struck again, causing the glass to crack and crumbled to the floor. She fell to her knees with a strangled whimper, staring at her now bleeding hands. They were gone… Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that there were supposed to be scars on her hands, her arms, her shins… Why? How did she know? And why did it upset her so much that they were gone?

"Shepard…"

She didn't look up as plated arms wrapped around her, drawing her to a warm, rumbling chest.

"What's wrong?"

Oh, that voice… The concern, the worry, the… She swallowed heavily and looked up through her lashes at the turian that knelt beside her, holding her close. Always there… He was always there, whether she wanted him to be or not. And right then, she was glad he was there. Glad that she wasn't alone, glad he was there to pull her back.

"Everything," Shepard finally choked out, clenching her mangled hands into fists. Deep down, she knew the missing scars were linked to her missing memories, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out why. She forced her eyes closed and tried to take a deep breath, but her thoughts still wouldn't focus. The low keen in his chest drew her attention and she stared at his carapace, trying to place the sound. It sounded so… personal.

"Tell me," he insisted and, though it was barely above a whisper, she felt it in every part of her body. She shivered and his arms tightened around her. "Please, Jane."

Oh, that did it. She felt an ache in her chest and tears slid, unbidden, down her face as she tried to rein her ridiculous emotions in. _Get it together, Shepard. You're acting like a fucking child._ And yet, she couldn't. She couldn't bring herself to push away from him, to ignore how absolutely low she felt. It all fell from her lips before she could stop it:

"I can't remember who I am, who I am beyond my medals. Everything about my past, my family, my life, is gone. I remember that I lived on Mindoir, but nothing about it. I remember fighting in the Blitz, but none of the people. I remember the Citadel, and Saren's… and Saren, but I don't remember who was there. I… I can't…" She tried to slow the torrent but it was for naught. "I know something is missing, that Cerberus left it out, and I just don't feel like _me._ Anything that made me who I am is gone. All the memories, the scars…"

Garrus looked down at her—she looked so fragile, so delicate, crying and bare in his arms—and the keen in his chest rose in pitch to sound out his concern. She didn't deserve this turmoil, this pain. She had done everything right, given up so much, and all she got in return was trouble. She turned toward him in his arms and he stroked her back in what he hoped were comforting circles. She never asked anyone for anything, always helping anyone that asked. After a moment of wracking his brain, he was sure he'd never heard her ask for help from anyone and it made his heart ache. He respected her more than anyone else in the galaxy, he idolized her—hell, he cared about her far more than a subordinate should—and he'd never thought to ask what she needed.

"Jane… You're still you," he rumbled, tipping her chin up so he could see her face. What he saw there broke his heart even more and he held her cheek in his hand. "They can't take that away. Memories… Damn them, but Cerberus took them. But you are still you. You're still the woman that saved the galaxy because she believed so firmly in the right thing. You're still the woman that went out of her way to help anyone who asked out of the goodness of her heart because it's just who she was. And you're still the woman that I—" He stopped himself abruptly and swore internally. That was not what she needed to hear right now. Or ever.

She sniffled and gazed numbly at the floor beside him and he thanked the Spirits she hadn't pressed his sudden silence. "Then why don't I feel like it?" The bitterness—emptiness—in her voice made his arms tighten around her instinctively.

"Do you trust me, Jane?" Something in his voice made her look back up to him and she nodded mutely. "Then trust me that you will. I promise." He ran his talons through her hair carefully and she leaned into the touch. Something deep in his chest stirred and he felt a low purr escape him, but he pressed on, "But it can't happen if you dwell on… this. On what Cerberus took or what has already happened. Don't let Kaiden have this effect on you; he isn't worth the air he breathes. You deserve to be happy and that can't happen if you let everyone else dictate what you feel." She looked back at him and he felt his heart speed up a little, and he tried to push it back down. "Save your hate for the Collectors and let the rest of the galaxy feel sorry for themselves when you show them how wrong they were."

Shepard finally smiled at him and he couldn't help the relief on his face. "I knew there was a reason I wanted you on the ship," she finally said with a light laugh, "And as much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right…" She sighed heavily and laid her forehead against his shoulder, suddenly looking very tired. "I don't like this. I don't like not knowing, not being able to trust the people around me but… I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Well, we could always commandeer the ship, shoot all Cerberus personnel out in escape pods, and head to some tropical world to spend the rest of our days on the beaches," he supplied dryly and she laughed.

"Yeah, but then who's going to save the galaxy?" She smirked at him, eyes sparkling and he couldn't help but smile. There she was.

"Well, I suppose there really isn't anyone else who could do it," he pretended to grumble, earning a light punch from the woman in his lap. Oh. He was suddenly very aware of the position they were in, and her state of undress and he coughed awkwardly. "I mean, maybe you could, but not nearly as stylishly as if I helped."

"So you've said," she replied, clearly unaware of his discomfort. They remained like that, sitting in silence as she examined her hands—thankfully, they'd stop bleeding but they still looked awful, even as the cybernetics took to work reweaving the torn flesh—and he wondered how she wasn't in pain. But, he quickly put that thought aside. Cerberus meddling, no doubt.

"So, Jane, any particular reason you declared war on your clothing?" he finally asked, trying very hard not to look anywhere but her face and failing miserably. He'd never admit it, but he was curious and—after the display of hand-to-hand she'd put on earlier—that curiosity had been piqued. How could that much power be stored in such a little body?

She turned pink and mumbled something, scrambled out of his arms and started gathering the bits of her clothing from the floor. He stood to help her and she spun as if to bolt to the elevator and slammed into his chest. With an "oof", she started to fall and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her to catch her. Pressed so close together, there were just inches between their faces and both stared, surprise and general awkwardness coloring both their faces as he set her on her feet carefully.

"Thanks," she mumbled, stepping around him with what little dignity she had left and he caught her arm. She stared at his hand before looking at his face.

"Think about what I said?"

She nodded and disappeared into the elevator, leaving him alone in the hanger bay to consider everything that had just happened.

_You almost told her you love her,_ his brain spat, _Do you _want_ to fuck everything up?_

He sighed and rubbed his brow absently. _I don't know what I want anymore._ And that was true. Just weeks ago, he would have been content to see her alive again and, even more recently he would have been content to die. So when she'd waltzed back into his life, he had gotten his first wish and gotten over the second with little difficulty. And yet, being there with her and seeing her as no one else had seen her—_oh yeah, no one on this ship has seen her quite like you just did_—he found himself wanting… something. Something else. Something more. Spirits, why wasn't anything simple?

_Because when Jane Shepard is involved, nothing is simple._

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**Let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Just a big "thank you" to greenyoda987 for beta reading and helping me keep a firm grip on the focus of this fic; you are awesome and I love you! **

**I never imagined I'd be writing chapter 12 with almost 3,000 views on this story. What? Crazy! So thank you everybody! And I apologize for the bit of a delay on this chapter. We really wanted to make sure this one was absolutely perfect.**

**I don't own Mass Effect.**

* * *

Spirits, what was he getting himself into?

Garrus let his back slide down the wall of the hanger until he was sitting on the floor, legs awkwardly accommodating his spurs, and let his eyes fall closed. This was so much more than he'd bargained for. _She_ was so much more than he'd bargained for, even from the beginning. His mandibles twitched into a rueful smile. She'd certainly turned his world upside down… But how? He couldn't even remember when it had started… His mind was a jumble and he felt lost merely considering sorting out the flurry of emotions that warred inside of him. Where to start… _The beginning's as good a place as any._

The first time he'd met Shepard… He'd never forget that. She strode up to his conversation with the executor like it were commonplace. Of course, it was anything but. The Executor had a less-than stellar view of humans, and yet here was this unknown human, striding up without fear. Of course Pallin had excused himself immediately and Ashley had sneered—an expression that he'd become familiar with—but Shepard only turned her gaze to him. The same piercing green stare that he came to associate with determination and victory.

The way she'd sized him up on the Presidium Tower had made him straighten up on instinct—it didn't even make sense, he didn't even know her—yet there he was, practically at attention in front of this tiny human he'd never met. How could this stranger—this _human_—have that effect on him? But the spark in her eye, the confident set of her jaw, left him no room to question the commanding air that radiated from her. He'd spilled his guts about his investigation into Saren and, to his surprise and secret delight, she'd believed him. In his naïve mind, he'd thought that maybe _this_ human was different… _Oh, you had no idea…_ He couldn't help but be fascinated and started doing a little research on his own to find out who this strange woman was.

And of course, once he had, he felt even more driven to prove himself—to impress her. Why? He wracked his brain, trying to remember what had driven him to earn Shepard's approval when he knew so little about her. She was a commanding officer. _Like that's ever mattered to you. You never take an order without questioning._ Ok, true. Then what the hell was it? She'd listened to him. _Being a good listener hardly begets desperate attempts at her attention._ He winced subconsciously at that thought. Had he been desperate? Had he been too eager to prove himself? Had she seen him as nothing more than a kid wanting to make it into the "real world"? The thought was less than appealing. No, she'd brought him onto the _Normandy_; she must have wanted him around.

_She almost didn't._

Oh, the clinic… He was sure she was going to shoot him right then, sure he had blown his chance to help her—the fury in her face when she jabbed a finger at him, scolded him for recklessness—and he had been sure that she would leave him. He'd scrambled to clean up his mess, and it only made him want to follow her more. Why? What was it about her? Again it escaped him. She just… was. Half of wanting to follow her had been wanting to know why she could affect him so. She wasn't turian, so why did he feel the need to stand taller in her presence?

Following her all over the galaxy, watching her stand up for people who couldn't—the kindness she showed to people she had never met and had no idea if they deserved it had surprised him—and seeing first hand why she was "the best humanity had to offer" had only confused him more. How could someone so kind and caring be so successful in war? But there she was. The first human Spectre, operating outside the law, refused to take any life that could still be spared.

Even criminals who didn't deserve it. He felt his blood grow hot thinking about Saleon. He'd off-handedly mentioned the _good doctor_ to Shepard and she'd latched onto it like a starving varren; she was just as determined to see justice done as he was. Of course, he hadn't counted on their views of what constituted "justice" being so different. He'd been furious that she planned on leaving that bastard alive, yet she'd stood there so calmly, staring him down with absolutely no fear. Sure, the doctor had died in the end and that only served to make him angrier. What was the point of showing mercy if he was just going to end up dead anyway. _You can't anticipate how people will act, but you can control how you'll respond._ He always flashed back to that moment of blank shock, staring at her when she imparted that tidbit of practical wisdom on him like a sledgehammer. Anger had been boiling in his blood and he was absolutely sure she had known the internal struggle he was wrestling with. Confusion muddled his brain and he could almost feel the uncertain twitch of his mandibles, like reliving the memory. Did he listen and accept her word as gospel, or did he question her, lash out… Spirits, he could have killed her by accident, and she'd just stood there like it was the safest place in the world. Maybe there was something wrong with her…

_No, she's just… Shepard. She trusted you, had faith in you._

She had no reason to have such blind faith in him. He'd proven that he was reckless and hot-headed when it came to his career up to that point and she stood there like he was no different than she was. How could she believe in him in the face of all that?

_She sees something in everybody._

She'd even tried to reason with Saren—tried to convince an indoctrinated, human-hating Spectre that he could stop the mess he'd created—and she'd almost succeeded. She'd gotten through to him, kind of. Garrus had watched her get to her feet to face him, heard the shot, and saw her expression twist from worry to horror before she ran to the edge of the platform. What had she been thinking in that moment? What could she think, watching as her words drove another to suicide? He shivered, just thinking about it. He had seen life leave people through the scope of his rifle and that alone haunted him. The first mercenary on Omega to cross the bridge—Spirits, he'd been no more than a child—kept him awake at night. The bullet tearing into his flesh, the jerk of his body as the force upset his balance, the blood that pulsed from the gaping hole in his neck as his heart futilely beat its last, the gradual glaze that fell over bright young eyes… His life ended in a nanosecond, drifting from his body like a vapor. Garrus laid his head in his hands and tried to stifle the mournful keen in his chest. Spirits, what had he done? He felt… wrong. Just, fucking wrong.

_Shepard, why didn't you stop me? _his mind begged her, despair washing over him like an icy wave, _Why weren't you there to tell me what to do?_ He felt like a child, and it almost made him ill, but how could he just pick up without her?

Her funeral flashed before his eyes, the emptiness he saw in the faces of her closest friends—how could anyone just go on without her?—and reached under his hardsuit to pull her tags free of their hiding place. Shepard had never worn them on missions, but the rocket on Omega had bent and scorched the previously-pristine metal. His talons grazed over the mangled plate, feeling the ridges of her name standing out on the surface. Feeling their weight in his hand reminded him that it had been real, that it all had been real. She hadn't been some angel, or spirit, sent from on high to pull him from his rut at C-Sec. She had been alive and fighting by his side, he hadn't imagined her all those years ago. Not like he had on Omega.

Anderson's face as the tags passed between their hands had stuck with him for the two years at Omega. The unspoken vow that had passed between them, unsure whether the other was aware of what they had promised: never forget her. Garrus closed his hand around the scarred metal. He'd refused to forget her, refused to let her memory die, or even dim. She'd remained alive in his mind, always just out of sight, always on the periphery, watching, guiding.

_Why didn't you stop me, Jane?_

The image of his team—the headquarters, the slaughter—overpowered his thoughts and he fought the urge to be sick, desperately willing his stomach to be still. He could smell the burning, the death, and he could hear Butler's last breaths, his last words echoing in his ears from star systems away. _Kill the bastards._ Rage slithered below the surface of his anguish, reminding him that escaping Omega wasn't the end. Oh no, he wasn't finished yet. There would be payback…

_And you think Shepard's going to let that happen?_

His brow furrowed. He'd created this fantasy Shepard to fill the void left by her absence, and even his fantasy had rebuked him. Every part of him knew that Shepard wouldn't let him exact revenge when the time came, and yet he had been surprised and hurt when his delusion had disagreed with him. Why? Had he expected her to change?

_No, she was dead. You kept her alive in your damn mind because you just couldn't let go._

He couldn't. He hadn't been able to carry on without her. Garrus Vakarian had died with Jane Shepard and Archangel had taken over. Archangel, who was empty and hollow, and killed without caring. What would she think when she found what he had done for two years? When she saw that darkness that had woven around his heart while she lay on a slab? Did she already know? The way she had appraised him after his encounter with the gunship, he could tell that she'd seen the change in him. But seeing her on that bridge, crossing over with the same unstoppable determination that she showed in everything, had breathed life into the person he had been and Garrus Vakarian rose again from the ashes of Archangel at the hand of Jane Shepard. She was the only good thing in his world.

_Is that why you love her?_

Because she had dragged him out of that place? Sure, why not? Because she gave him a chance to prove himself? Hell yes. Because she had been the only thing keeping him from giving up? Well, yeah. But… His mandibles flexed and he twisted his talons together pensively. Was any of this really affection, or just gratitude? He was sure he loved her in at least some way but… It had been so long. _I missed her_, he finally thought, _I missed her for so long, and now… Here she is. _ Two years he'd spent missing her and he felt nothing but joy at her return, and he knew that not all of it was because she had saved him.

_She's saved your sorry ass more times than she should have._

But she had, and that had to count for something, right? Of course, that was just who she was: the savior of the galaxy and everyone in it. It was a shame she wasn't turian… She was everything the Hierarchy looked for in a soldier. Well, except for her refusal to sacrifice innocent life. The few for the many, but she couldn't understand that. Or she didn't want to. And every time the subject had been brought up, she had pushed him to understand _why. _And every time, he responded with the same "I'll think about it". And he had. Every damn time. He wanted to understand her, what made Shepard who she was. And it still escaped him. But he knew she brought out the best in him, and that was more than enough.

_You're obsessed._

He wasn't ashamed of that, but he would never tell her. She was fascinating.

_You almost told her you loved her._

That was different. Being in love with her didn't change how much he respected her. Hell, in a way he loved her because he respected her.

_Now you sound like Alenko._

He clenched his jaw and stifled a growl. No. He was _not_ like that whiny, weak-willed bastard. Alenko loved the idea of being with Shepard. It was different. Right?

_How?_

That, he didn't know. He knew his feelings were different but they were… confusing. Spirits, maybe he was acting like Alenko… That thought made him shudder. He couldn't do that to her; he couldn't put her through the kind of pain Alenko had for such a selfish reason. Besides… She was too good for him. Hell, she was probably as close to perfect as a person could get. She was too good for anyone. Being her best friend would have to be enough. Just like he'd always been.

Garrus ran a hand down the unscarred side of his face and let out a sigh. Spirits, when had his life become so complicated? He opened up his omnitool and flipped through the images until he came to the one he wanted: one of the pictures he had taken from her funeral. She looked exactly the same now as she did then, aside from the eerie glowing scars. _Well yeah, two years didn't pass for her_. The excited smile on her face as she spoke lit up her face and he wished he could put that look on her face again. She deserved to be happy. He focused on her hand on his arm and his good mandible twitched outward in reserved, turian smile. Shepard wasn't overly physical, he'd noticed. She usually kept her distance unless absolutely necessary or if she really trusted you. After such a short time, she had put so much trust in him—to watch her six, to be in her space. He had heard rumors about her past—stories that supposedly explained why she was so… Shepard, but most of them were too ridiculous to be true—and he'd discounted them on principle. But she had never talked about it and he couldn't help but wonder.

_You don't know anything about her. Sure, you know her military record, but so does Cerberus. Who is she outside that uniform?_

His expression fell a little as stared at the picture longer. Did he know her? He kept telling himself he did but… Where was she from? What was her family like? He didn't know, and now she couldn't tell him. Damn. It put a bitter taste in his mouth. He barely knew his best friend. How could he be in love with her if he didn't know her?

_Just forget it,_ his mind grumbled, _You're too spiky for her, anyway. She's too fragile._

He hung his head a little and shut off his omnitool. _You're her friend, just… act like it. Nothing's changed,_ he told himself, _She needs you to watch her back, not drool over her._ With a grunt, he awkwardly got to his feet and rolled out his shoulders. Maybe it was best he hadn't said anything to her…

_Good idea. How could you even think you loved her?_

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	13. Chapter 13

**Another huge thank you to my beta/editor, greenyoda987. You are the best, and I don't know what I'd do without you! Probably crash and burn…**

**Anywho, enjoy!**

**I don't own Mass Effect.**

* * *

Shepard stood, one hand supporting herself on the wall, as water pounded down her back and let out a long sigh. She couldn't remember how long she had just stood there, staring at the blank tile in front of her face, but she was sure it had been too long. And yet she couldn't bring herself to leave the sanctuary of her shower. Just ten more minutes, just a little more peace...

"Commander, scans have shown that there has been no movement in your quarters for some time. Do you require assistance?"

Shepard closed her eyes and let out a long breath. "EDI, I thought I said not to monitor my quarters?" she growled tightly. She slammed a hand on the water control and the comforting deluge shut off, leaving her in a cloud of steam. The chill of her cabin rushed back in and made her shiver.

"Apologies, Commander, but the crew was concerned. It will not happen again."

She ran a hand over her face—thankfully, Chakwas's suggestion to "stay positive" had minimized the scars, but they were still there—and grabbed her towel, wrapping it around her torso. "It's fine, EDI, just… Just don't do it again," she sighed, padding over the dresser beside her bed. "Anything else?" Her body ached and she was sure there were bruises across her back from diving away from the thresher maw, but Grunt had been inducted into Clan Urdnot and that minor crisis had been avoided. She rolled out her neck and sighed as it cracked deliciously. That just left... Well, all of her other aches. Fuck.

"The Illusive Man wishes to speak with you in the comm room."

And, there it was. She scowled and ran her fingers through her wet hair, working out a few tangles. "Of course he does. I'm sure he didn't say why?"

"He did not."

"Right, thanks EDI."

"Logging you out, Shepard."

Shepard quickly threw on her uniform, hastily tugging on her boots and trotting out to the elevator. Might as well get it over with as soon as possible. Water dripped down the back of her neck but she ignored it, staring blankly at the door. How much longer was she expected to keep pretending that she and Cerberus were on the same side? She wasn't sure she could keep up the charade, regardless of how oblivious the Illusive Man was to that fact. As far as he was concerned, she might as well have been an obedient puppet; she knew that was what he saw. Her steps were slower when she exited the elevator, soreness catching up with her as she cut through the Tech Labs toward the comm room. Her body ached and she bit down a groan as the muscles in her legs protested.

"Shepard."

Her gaze jerked toward the voice, eyes falling on Miranda as the woman leaned forward, hands planted on Mordin's research table. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she felt her old anger returning; anger at Cerberus, at the Alliance, at the Council, and most of all, at the woman in front of her. "Miranda. Where's the professor?" she asked icily, noting the salarian's absence. Had she ever seen Mordin outside of the lab? She didn't think so.

"Shepard, I…" The other woman stared at the table, unable to meet the commander's eyes. "I owe you an apology."

"I already got your apology, Lawson," Shepard spat, "but that hardly means that I'm done talking to you about what you did to me." Her XO's refusal to meet her eyes sent a new surge of fury through her, numbing the pain in her body. Even if Shepard believed the Cerberus operative's apology was sincere, Miranda's inability to look her in the eye cast an air of deceit over the whole affair and shattered her relative calm. She moved to the opposite side of the table, slamming a hand onto the metal surface. "Look at me, damn it." Her voice was low, but her eyes showed just how angry she was and Miranda swallowed before glancing up at the commander's face. "You destroyed whatever memories I had of my past, took away any reminders I had by erasing them from my body. You can't expect me to just forgive you for that." The cybernetics glowed under her skin and she pushed back from the table and turned away. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an obligatory meeting with Satan that I need to get to. Feel free to feel guilty," she called over her shoulder as she walked out. Had those words been spoken to anyone else, she would have felt like a monster but now… Now she just felt empty. The ache returned to her muscles and she trudged into the comm room under hunched shoulders.

Her words hung in the air and Miranda watched her go, fingers clenching around the edge of the table. Dark circles—mirroring the ones Shepard herself possessed—ringed her eyes and tension furrowed her brow. Shepard's words cut into her like a knife and she took a shaky breath. Guilt… Well, that was nothing new. She'd felt guilty since she had noticed her mistake, agonized over it in every waking moment. How could she possibly fix this? The Illusive Man made it clear that he wanted Shepard to trust them all, but as far as she could tell, Shepard would rather shoot her out the airlock than be in the same room with her for more than thirty seconds. She hadn't brought anyone with her on missions besides the turian and quarian since they'd picked them up, and even before that, she had avoided anyone showing an outright alliance with Cerberus. Right… Miranda straightened and pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, waiting until the pleasant tingling spread over her face and stars danced behind her lids. She'd spent every free moment in the labs trying to find a way to fix her mistake on her own but nothing had shown any progress. Maybe she should ask for help… No. It was bad enough admitting her mistake to herself; she couldn't admit it to anyone else.

* * *

Shepard settled into her hip, arms crossed over her chest as the holo grid powered up, showing her the interior of the Illusive Man's office. The dying star behind him glowed in its usual, surprisingly beautiful way and his eyes glowed in their usual, menacingly sinister way. She scoffed as he took a long drag off his cigarette, swirling his glass of brandy. _Hedonist_, she thought darkly as he exhaled, _maybe karma will align itself and he'll die of catastrophic organ failure. That would be great…_

"Shepard," he interrupted her thoughts, tapping the ash from his cigarette, "We've caught a break. A turian patrol has run across a Collector ship and disabled it. I want you to go in and investigate; gather any information you can that may help us get through the Omega-4 Relay. I've forwarded the coordinates to EDI's systems."

Her brow furrowed and she scowled. "How did a single patrol take down a Collector ship? And why aren't the turians investigating?" It was their patrol, their people, after all… Why was Cerberus investigating if they hated aliens?

"Scans show no hull damage to the craft, but all primary systems are offline," he said slowly, as if talking to a child. She felt her blood boil, but he continued, "As for the turians, I intercepted the transmission. Once our investigation is over, they will be informed. Your primary objective is information." His eyes settled on her untied boots and disheveled hair, and she could see him sigh. Oh sorry, was she not presentable? Too bad. She had to resist the urge to laugh at him; she didn't give a damn what he thought of her, she wasn't here by choice. "Can you do this, Shepard?" he finally asked, disdain beginning to seep into his tone.

"Of course I can," she snorted, shifting her weight and leaning toward him, "And I'll get the information." Without waiting for an answer, she stepped out of the grid, ending their conversation, and stopped at the door. "Joker, plot a course for the Collector ship coordinates."

"Will do, Commander. How is the Illusive Man? Still a prick?"

"Some things never change," she replied tiredly, rubbing her temples, "Tell Garrus and Tali to meet me at the Kodiak. I have a bad feeling about this…" But first, she needed to see Dr. Chakwas about something to appease her aching body.

* * *

"Coming up on the Collector ship. Damn, this thing is massive, Shepard. How did the turians take it down?" Joker shifted in his chair to examine the vessel as they slid past it.

"Don't know. The Illusive Man wasn't really forthcoming with that information," Shepard grumbled, arms crossed as she stood just behind her pilot's shoulder. _Like he's ever given you the whole story._

"Preliminary scans show no hull breaches on the vessel, but the main drive core appears to be offline," EDI chimed in and Shepard's brow furrowed. _Yeah, cause that makes sense._ "It is possible the patrol was able to board and disable the ship."

"One patrol against the entire Collector crew? What are the odds, EDI?"

"Less than one percent chance of success, Shepard."

"Uh huh…" Shepard crossed her arms and studied the AI interface. Did she know something that the Illusive Man wasn't telling them?

"Approaching the Collector ship, Commander. You're all set to board," Joker said, fingers flying over the controls. She could see the tension around his mouth as he brought the _Normandy_ alongside the sinister behemoth; he didn't like this either. Well, at least she wasn't the only one.

Shepard leaned over his shoulder, peering out the windows at the ship. It made her blood run cold, but she straightened and the commander mask slid on. "Good. Joker, you have the ship." She paused and added, "If anything happens, if you don't hear from us in an hour, you better come and rescue us." Her tone was lightly teasing, just enough to provoke a half smile.

"What, and risk my ship?" he asked in mock horror and she cuffed his shoulder lightly—very lightly—and he chuckled, making her lip curl in a smile. If he was going along with the joke, then his head was in the right place; she had known Joker long enough to know that.

"You're the best pilot in the galaxy, I'm sure you can manage some thrilling heroics," she replied, heading back through the CIC. Out of sight of the cockpit, her smile fell and she set her jaw, teeth clenched. She didn't like this mission, too many things didn't make sense, but she couldn't pin it down. It just… felt wrong. She could feel it in her gut, but she forced it down, ignoring the sinking feeling in her chest. Always one more thing… She leaned back against the wall of the elevator, letting her head fall back and her eyes fall closed. Just one thing after another until she could walk away from Cerberus without a second thought. Oh, she couldn't wait for that. Maybe plant a timed charge under the Illusive Man's chair… The elevator's doors slid open, interrupting her scheming, and she let out a long breath, pushing herself out and into the hanger. Garrus and Tali watched her from beside the Kodiak and she gave them a small smile. Just like old times. Well, minus the Mako.

"Ready, Shepard?" Garrus asked, catching her gaze with his. Her eyes roamed over the scars on his face before settling on his eyes and she nodded. She felt responsible for the damage every time she saw him, but they were healing well and soon the bandage would come off. At least he was alive. Alive and scarred was worlds better than dead, she told herself. She'd brought him on every mission since they'd found him holed up on Omega, glad to have someone on her six that she could trust and—she noted with a bit of envy—he didn't seem worse for wear after their adventures on Tuchanka. He caught her look and gave her a smug twitch of his mandibles. _Cocky son of a bitch_, she thought suppressing a smile.

"As I'll ever be," she replied, looking to the quarian with a wink. She could see Tali's eyes crinkle in amusement and Shepard felt a surge of relief. Two people she could trust… The perfect number to watch her back. "I don't know what we'll find, but I don't think we have the whole story. Just… be ready in case this goes sideways. Move out."

The shuttle ride was short and uneventful, giving them a moment's peace to consider what exactly it was they were doing. Garrus cast her a nervous glance, turning his helmet over in his hands. Tali wrung her hands beside him and it was clear they were all thinking the same thing.

"I don't like this, Shepard. This doesn't add up."

"Preaching to the choir, Garrus," she retorted, checking her helmet for what was probably the thousandth time. The memories from the last time she'd worn one… _Black, floating… No air… Need air… Need air! _Taking a deep breath, she pushed the thought away. She didn't like the idea of spending any amount of time with it on, but oxygen was kind of important. Her throat tightened again and she quickly shook her head, trying to shake the breathless feeling. She did not need to be having a panic attack right now.

"Preach… what?" The way he cocked his head in confusion reminded her of a curious varren and she resisted the urge to giggle like a child. Whether he knew it or not, he was keeping her sane.

"Never mind. I know. I don't like going in blind, but there's not much else we can do except follow orders and hope it doesn't bite us in the butt."

"Shepard, with your track record, it'll be worse than you think," Tali replied, setting her hands on her hips.

"It usually is," Shepard acknowledged with a half-hearted smile.

Tali nudged Garrus lightly with her elbow. "Just like old times, eh?"

He chuckled and looked back to Shepard, but she was staring at the visor of her helmet, dead to the rest of the world. "Yeah… Just like old times…"

* * *

She resisted the urge to shudder when they stepped onto the alien craft. Everything about it was eerie, and she could almost taste the uneasiness settling on her tongue. Her grip on her pistol tightened and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end beneath her helmet. Oh, she wished she didn't have to wear it… Garrus cast her a glance behind his own helmet, seeing the tension across her shoulders as she moved forward, and adjusted his grip on his rifle. He didn't like this place, and he could see that Shepard didn't either. Something about it had both their hackles up and he saw Tali shift uneasily from the corner of his eye. Yup, this place was creepy.

"I love what they've done with the place," Garrus drawled and Shepard turned just enough so she could see him out of her corner of her eye. His posture didn't match his humor, and she could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, however unsuccessfully.

"It… It looks like a giant insect hive…" Tali added, turning this way and that.

"Well, they are creepy bug people, so… yeah," Shepard replied, patting the younger girl's shoulder, "EDI, got anything?"

"Scans indicate an access node to Collector databanks. I've marked it on your hardsuit computer."

"Got it."

They had only gone a few yards when EDI piped up again, "Shepard, I've compared the EM signatures to known Collector profiles. It is the same ship you encountered on Horizon."

Shepard scowled. "Maybe the defense towers softened it for the turians… Did you see any trace of a turian patrol?"

"Negative."

Well, that didn't make sense. _When does it ever…_

"The missing colonists might be aboard. If they're still alive." Garrus's voice cut into her thoughts and she nodded.

"If we can find them—"

"Shepard!" Tali called out, waving them over, "These are the same pods the Collectors used on Freedom's Progress."

"And Horizon." Shepard tentatively peered over the side and frowned. "They're empty." That wasn't a good sign.

"That's… horrible; being trapped in these pods, completely at the mercy of the Collectors…" Garrus felt a shudder run down his spine.

He and Tali looked to Shepard, but she was still staring at the pod. How long had Cerberus kept her in something like this while they rebuilt her? Unable to move—to live—and at their mercy while they tinkered with her body. Her hands started to shake, and she felt her heart speed up, remembering when she'd awoken in the lab.

_Help me._

"_Just lie still. Everything will be alright."_

_Panic. Fear._

"_Give her the sedative!"_

_Don't send me back. Please, just let me stay awake!_

With a grunt, she shook the memory away, thankful that her respirator covered her face. She didn't need anyone seeing how pale she was, or the cold sweat that had broken out on her brow. "Come on, the sooner we get out of here the better."

They moved slowly through the twisting corridors of the ship, scanning every corner until they came to a pile of bodies that forced Shepard to turn away to steady her stomach. The bodies were mangled and discarded like no more than trash; limbs sprawled at disjoint angles and bits of armor sticking out of… Shepard didn't know, and she didn't want to know. The feeling of bile burning in the back of her throat as her stomach threatened to revolt made her squeeze her eyes shut. _Don't throw up in your helmet! That is the _last_ thing you need._

"This looks bad…" Garrus started, just off her shoulder.

"It usually is," she mumbled, eyes opening as she took a steadying breath before joining them beside the mess.

"Keelah… Why? Why just leave a pile of bodies?" Tali finally whispered, one hand raised as if to cover her mouth. Even without the gesture, Shepard could hear the fear and disgust in her young friend's voice. But she didn't have an answer and all she could do was stare. How could this happen? Why? What purpose was there for this much wanton death?

"Maybe they were subjects for testing. I'd say these didn't pass…"

The fire flared in Shepard's eyes and she rounded on him, jabbing a finger at his chest. "This isn't a joke. These are people. Innocent people. They deserved better than this." She didn't know why she was so angry at him—why she was angry in general, yes, but not at Garrus—but something in his tone rubbed her the wrong way. She could see the change in him—the change caused by Omega—and though she didn't know how deep that change went, she wasn't sure she liked it. Tali looked between them and, though Shepard couldn't see his face, the way he held himself showed his surprise. She sighed, turning away from Tali's confusion and Garrus's surprise, and lowered her hands, eyes falling back on the bodies. "Sorry. I just… There are fates worse than death, I suppose. Like being a test subject for twisted aliens." _Or twisted humans._ "Come on."

Garrus stared after her for a moment before following, trying to rationalize the abrupt shifts her demeanor. She was under a lot of pressure, yes, but surely that couldn't be… She turned, warily eyeing an empty corridor off the one they'd been following and he could see it: anger, barely contained and raging inside of her. He could see it behind her eyes, in the set of her mouth, and the measure of her stride. The hanger… She had been angry then, too—blowing off steam—but this was different. She was looking for a scapegoat. He hung back a little, checking the space behind them every few steps—both to give her some space and to make sure nothing snuck up on them—and let out a sigh. Maybe it wasn't just like old times… Maybe it never would be. Shaking his head, he pulled out of his thoughts and returned to his place on Shepard's six. There would be time for thinking later.

It was only a few yards before they found what looked like a small lab set up; consoles and pods set up in a small arch. Shepard approached carefully, calling up her omnitool as she holstered her pistol. This seemed… She didn't know. But she didn't like it. "EDI, what do you make of this?" she asked, finishing her scan, "I wanna know what these fuckers are up to."

"Is that… Shepard, that's a Collector," Tali stammered, voice rising in pitch, "Are they testing on one of their own?"

"Data received," EDI interrupted as Shepard moved toward the dead Collector, "Analyzing." There was a beat of silence before she continued, "The Collectors are running baseline comparisons between humans and their species."

"Looking for what? Similarities?" Shepard couldn't see any way that humanity and the Collectors could be linked. "That's impossible."

"Their hypothesis is unknown, Commander, but I have preliminary results. They are quite remarkable: a quad strand DNA structure similar to those recovered from ancient ruins."

"What kind of ancient ruins?" She peered at the Collector closely; sure, she'd been shooting holes in them, but she'd never taken the time to actually look at one. Her conclusion was the same: whether up close or through her sights, they were still creepy.

"Only one race is known to have this structure, Shepard: the Protheans."

Protheans... Dread fell over her like a tidal wave and she stepped back instinctively. How? How was this possible? Thousands of situations flashed through her mind, but none made sense. None but one…

"My god… The Protheans didn't vanish; they're just working for the Reapers!" The most advanced race in the galaxy, and they were the Reapers' errand runners. How could they fight this? Damn it, this didn't… How could the Protheans side with the Reapers? On Ilos, talking to Vigil… Was it a lie?

"These are no longer Protheans, Shepard," EDI replied, as if sensing her inner turmoil, "They show signs of extensive genetic modification. They have been repurposed to suit the Reapers' needs."

"How… How did no one notice this?" She looked back to the Collector corpse and then quickly away. Nothing on Ilos had looked like this…

"There has been no detailed study of Collector genetic code. I have found evidence of extreme alteration."

"The Reapers didn't eliminate the Protheans like we thought, did they..." Garrus finally said, turning the visor of his helmet toward her and she looked away. The implication was unsettling.

"No. They reduced them to monsters that they could enslave and exploit." She heard Tali's sharp intake of breath and Shepard flexed her fingers toward her belt. "And they'll keep doing it whenever they need muscle." She squeezed her eyes shut and she felt Garrus lay a hand on her shoulder. The weight should have been reassuring, but she felt like she was drowning. "We can't let them do this to anyone else," she finally managed quietly. Tali nodded and hefted her shotgun, making Shepard smile a little. Always following her into hell… She owed a thank you to whoever sent her such friends. "Let's get what we need before the Collectors come and salvage this ship." Her gaze turned to the turian beside her, and—though she couldn't see his face—gave him an apologetic look. Someone would pay for… everything, but it wouldn't be her friends. No, that payback was reserved for someone who deserved it. Her eyes fell on a pile of discarded weapons—probably taken from the harvest colonists—and she carefully lifted an assault rifle to her shoulder. The idea made her skin crawl but any fire power she could get, well… She wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. She could bleach it later. _More than once._

"Move out," she finally said, signaling Garrus and Tali forward with a jerk of her shoulder. They jogged further into the vessel, each silently hoping there would be no more surprises. And yet, things were never that easy.

"Shepard, on the ceiling. More of those strange pods." Staring up at the expanse of pods littering the ceiling, Garrus tightened his grip on his rifle.

"There must be hundreds… How many do you think are full?" Tali chimed in, keeping close to Shepard. None of them wanted to know the answer, but the question hung in the air like a poison.

"Too many," Shepard finally said, throat tight. _Too many… Too many that I could have saved. Too many that should have lived…_

"Scans show no signs of life in any of the pods, Shepard." Garrus glanced at the woman leading their party as her back stiffened and he moved as if to comfort her, to assure her that it wasn't her fault, but EDI continued, "It is probable that victims died when the ship lost primary power."

"Small mercies, I guess." Her voice was broken, with no strength behind it, and her shoulders slumped, but she pressed on, joints of her gauntlets creaking as her grip tightened on her rifle. Under the armor, her fingers ached and her knuckles were white but she didn't ease up. _Penance,_ she told herself, _for failing._ _Never leave anyone behind, that was what we promised. Every life is valuable._ Her horror and helplessness at the situation quickly converted to rage as she remembered the fate of those victims left to rot in a pile of mangled carcasses further back in the ship. Some fates are worse than death, she reminded herself again. But someone was definitely going to pay for this.

"Commander, you gotta hear this," Joker's voice broke through her gloom and she jerked instinctively, pausing mid-stride. With a huff, she straightened her shoulders and pressed on.

"Hit me, Joker."

"On a hunch, I asked EDI to run an analysis on this ship." Joker was cooperating with the AI? Well, maybe something was going right after all. She could rib him for it later, when they weren't in imminent danger.

"I compared the ship's EM profile to data recorded by the original _Normandy_ two years ago. They are an exact match."

Shepard's anger flared brighter and her pace sped up until she was almost sprinting up the incline. "Same ship following me for two years? I don't believe in coincidences."

"You also don't believe in the word 'impossible'," Garrus added and she laughed, adrenaline pumping now. A flush burned in her cheeks and she could feel her blood thrumming through her veins. Damn, it felt good to be alive; angry and full of adrenaline, but alive. Alive was good.

"You complaining, Garrus? And here I thought you liked all the adventure."

Garrus gave a low chuckle as well, almost sensing the lift in her mood. "Adventure is different than—"

"Fuck."

Their banter stopped short as they stepped into a huge, open chamber. Pods lined all of the walls, all the way to the ceiling and around the cylindrical structure. All three of them stopped short, weapons lowering as they stared. Nothing they had expected compared to this.

"This is unbelievable…"

"Keelah, Shepard…"

"They could take every human in the Terminus Systems and not have enough to fill all of these," Shepard whispered, brow furrowing.

"They're going to target Earth." The realization in Garrus's voice made her blood chill and she turned to look at her two friends. She couldn't see either of their faces but they all knew what the others were thinking: it was much, much worse than they had feared. Shepard swallowed heavily and lifted the assault rifle again.

"Not if we stop them. Let's go. The sooner we get what we're looking for the sooner we can stop… this." She jerked her head toward a path leading down… somewhere, and started jogging down, boots pounding across the uneven, leather-like surface. Her jaw tightened as she scrambled down the slope, hearing her team following at a more reasonable pace.

"There, on the platform. Looks like some kind of console," Garrus's voice reached her as she came up on the hexagonal platform, "Must be what EDI wanted us to find."

Shepard cast a wary glance around and stopped, setting her rifle across her back. Something was wrong… "We haven't seen any bodies of the Collector crew… Or the turian patrol. I don't like this. Something's not right. It feels wrong. Watch yourselves." Her fingers danced over her omnitool and she spoke into her comm, "EDI, I'm setting up a link to the Collector ship. See if you can find anything useful in the databanks, anything to tell us what they're up to."

* * *

Joker watched the screens as the data flew by, settling back into the pilot's chair for what he anticipated as being a long wait.

"Data mine in progress," EDI in toned blankly and he smirked. As long as she was the one crunching the numbers and he was the one flying the ship, he didn't care what she did. And yet one by one, the screens blinked to static, filling the cockpit with a quiet white noise, and his expression turned to one of confusion.

Someone—something, some creepy, insect thing—appeared on one screen, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished and Joker's eyes widened.

"That can't be good…"

* * *

**Such a long chapter… But totally worth it! Let me know what you think!**


	14. Chapter 14

**This one definitely took a long time to write, and I apologize for that.**

**But another big thank you to the best beta/editor greenyoda987. She's da bomb.**

**That being said, chapters may be a bit further apart now, since I do have a research paper to be working on.**

* * *

There was a sound like the ground being cracked asunder and Shepard started back from the console as the interface went dark. _Shit._ There was a groan from deep within the ship and her eyes flew around to the walls surrounding the platform; tubes began to shift and she could hear the rush of hydraulic locks being released. Her hand inched toward the pistol at her waist, and she heard a growl emanating from Garrus as they closed ranks, the three of them standing in a loose circle. For a handful of seconds that felt like hours, they scanned the perimeter for a threat, muscles tense and combat-ready. When nothing jumped out at them, Shepard slowly reached up to activate the comm in her ear.

"Everyone's alright on our end, Joker. What just happened?" Her voice was drawn and strained, but she was thankful it didn't shake like her hands. _Time to be The Commander, suck it up._ She took a step out of the safety of her team's circle and cast another wary glance around.

"Major power surge," Joker replied, "Everything went dark for a second, but we're back up now."

"I managed to divert most of the overload to non-critical systems," EDI added calmly, "Shepard, this was not a malfunction. It was a trap."

"Shepard…" Tali started nervously, watching around the perimeter of the walls. Something was moving…

With a bang, the platform shifted, staggering the three of them. Shepard threw out a hand to catch her balance, but before she steadied herself, Garrus caught her arm and she found herself staring at the faceplate of his helmet. Just like old times. A whirring noise drew her attention as the platform slowly started to spin, lifting out of the floor and floating upwards into the gaping cavern of the ship.

"EDI, we could use a little help…" she started, trying to maintain a sense of their bearings as the platform continued its uncharted journey through the air. Tali stumbled a few steps closer and Shepard put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Shepard wasn't feeling very sure of anything, but her quarian friend didn't need to know that; she needed to know that they would be alright. Shepard shifted her feet a bit further apart and bent her knees, trying to maintain her balance and ignoring how silly she probably looked. Survival was a little more important than looking silly and she couldn't exactly stay alive if she fell flat on her face during an attack.

"I am having trouble maintaining the connection. There is someone else in the system."

_Someone else?_

The platform jerked to a halt before she could take the thought any further, sending Shepard staggering forward. Tali bumped off her hip into the center console, but managed to stay upright and nodded at Shepard's concerned glance; she was fine. Garrus's back hit the platform, helmet cracking against the surface and he sucked in a breath, willing the pain in his fringe to go away. He was really starting to hate this ship. Shepard held a hand out to him and hauled him to his feet, coming face-to-carapace with his armored chest. Their hands lingered a bit longer than necessary and her heart—swimming in adrenaline—picked up its pace as he gave her a grateful inclination of his head. Under her respirator, she blushed, feeling the heat shoot to her face. Trying to shake the nervous feeling in her stomach, she casually patted his shoulder and stepped away. _Not now. Besides it's just the adrenaline; this is Garrus. Your best friend. You've got more important stuff to deal with. Like the fact that this is a trap. 20 creds says the Illusive Man is involved,_ her brain sulked as she cast a dubious look around the part of the ship they now occupied. _Don't get caught up in all this, Shepard. Nothing is different between you, remember? You're just tired. A good night's sleep and you won't be blushing every time he—_

A distant hum caught her attention and she focused on it, trying to divine its source. She scowled as another hexagonal platform, almost identical to the one they were on, floated into view, heading towards them.

"Company incoming!" she cried, shouldering her assault rifle and ducking behind the console. Biotics danced over her fingers—it never hurt to be prepared—and she felt rather than saw her teammates take cover on either side of her. Her eyes were locked on the opposite platform as it drew closer and attached to theirs.

"Connection reestablished. I need to finish the download before I can override any systems to help you, Shepard." For the first time, Shepard detected a trace of urgency in the AI's tone. Was she afraid? _Could_ she be afraid?

"Then you'd better get it done fast, EDI, 'cause we're gonna need it," Shepard replied, popping out of cover to fire a round of bullets at the new arrivals. The Collector drones turned on her, rasping and clicking in their disconcerting way; if she could understand, she was sure it wouldn't be very flattering.

"Any plans, Commander? Clever military tactics, maybe?" Garrus asked over the sound of his rifle firing. Tali glanced up from her omnitool as her combat drone drifted toward their enemies and Shepard smiled behind her helmet.

"Aim for the ugly one." Shepard's response made Tali snort and she settled her shotgun in her hands, waiting for the chance to get close, earning a pleased look from Shepard.

"Could you be more specific?" He replied, laughter in his dual-toned voice.

"Not really. Pick your favorite and decorate the floor with his brains." She vaulted over the console and dove to a new bit of cover, popping in a new thermal clip. After only a brief pause, she jumped up onto the platform and nearly ran smack into a Collector drone. With a yell, she let of a pulse of biotics, sending it flying into one of its comrades. She realized too late that another platform had landed alongside the one she had attempted to invade and she would soon be outnumbered. And yet she wasn't afraid; worried, maybe, but not afraid. Instead, she felt a rush and switched to her pistol. _Gotta go with the classics,_ she thought dryly as she moved toward the center of the space, firing as fast as her firearm would allow.

Garrus stared in borderline horror as Shepard strode almost calmly into a swarm of Collector drones. Had she lost her damn mind?! _Well, yeah. You knew that after the first time in the Mako._ He shook his head and brought his rifle to his eye, gunning down a drone that was getting just a little too close to her for his liking. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tali trying to flank their enemy as they focused on Shepard. Carefully, he moved forward, keeping one eye on Shepard as he did, and stepped up onto the platform. Shepard launched the last drone over the edge with a flash of her biotics and caught his gaze. He could see the twinkling smile in her eye and couldn't help but smile himself, even if she couldn't see it. But a sound from the second enemy platform drew his attention and, on instinct, he grabbed Shepard by her waist and pulled her down behind cover, kneeling with one hand planted on either side of her head as a particle beam shot through the space where she had been standing only seconds before.

Shepard let out a grunt as her back hit the wall, old aches returning and making her wince. She was about to give him a piece of her mind when she saw the beam reflected in his helmet; the words died on her tongue as she stared at him. For a second neither moved—staring wide-eyed at the other—and they barely registered Tali's yell and the discharge of her shotgun as the laser-wielding drone crumpled with a gaping hole in its torso.

Garrus's visor blinked at him within his helmet, marking the increase in her heart rate and the rush of blood to her face, and he felt her hand tighten instinctively on his shoulder where it had landed. He could feel his own heart speed up and couldn't seem to make his muscles move away from her.

"Thanks," she finally managed, breathing a bit heavier now. Taking his cue, he moved to her side and retrieved his rifle from the ground.

"No problem," he replied, equally breathless, "I've got your back, Shepard."

_He does…_ she mused, regripping her pistol. An unnatural flash of light caught her attention and she peered over the wall, futilely trying to control her breathing. One of the drones was enveloped in the glow and she saw Tali falling back behind cover quickly.

"Assuming direct control."

_Harbinger. Fuck._

"I'm really starting to hate that guy," she muttered, rising to her feet and emptying the clip into the possessed drone's barrier. She heard Garrus's chuckle and momentarily forgot her anger—at the Alliance, the Council, Cerberus, Miranda—as a smile hid at the corner of her lip.

"Shepard!"

Tali's frantic cry had her running to the quarian's side without a second thought, throwing as much strength as she could into the biotic blasts keeping Harbinger at bay. Seeing Tali scrambling backwards from the drone sent a new rush of adrenaline through her. _No one threatens my team. _Just like that, the anger that had been energizing her returned and the fire flared in her belly again. _Time for some violence._

"I know you feel this, Shepard," Harbinger's voice taunted and she felt a chill run down her spine. Speaking with Sovereign had been creepy enough, but having this disembodied voice threaten her was more than a little off-putting. And it only made her want to kill it more. Without thinking, she stood from behind cover, intent on filling the drone with so many bullets it was more metal than flesh, but a sick, yellow energy washed over her and she gasped. Her skin felt like it was on fire and she dropped to her knees, panting and waiting for it to subside. Pain burned across her flesh and she bit down a whimper, forcing her eyes shut for a second as she heard Tali's squeak that hinted at a mix of surprise and fear. Shepard felt her extremities beginning to numb and terror shot through her. _Not again…_

_Floating… Nothing…_

_She felt nothing. Nothing in the empty black._

Garrus felt like the floor had dropped out from under him as Shepard dropped to her knees; he took a step toward her without thinking. A hail of bullets slammed into his shields, bringing him back to reality and he spun, firing off a shot to drop the offending enemy before his shields were completely lowered. His eyes sought out Shepard and he felt his breath leave his body. _Spirits, let her be ok. Please, just let her be ok._ The mantra ran through his head over and over as he gunned down more of the Collectors. "Shepard!" he yelled without thinking—anything to prove to himself she was still there—as he watched her shoulders hunch forward and she seemed to close in on herself, pain written in her posture. He felt a roar rise in his chest, but held it down, striding across the platform with grim determination, gunning down their enemies with uncanny precision. _If she isn't alright, so help me…_

"Shepard!" Garrus's yell reached her across the space, thankfully jerking her out of the unpleasant train of thought and—though she wanted to assure him she was fine—she kept her teeth clenched tight to keep from crying out.

_God, it hurts_.

Tali sent her combat drone out again with a quick word of praise and turned to the commander, hands fluttering to find some way to help. Rifle fire exploded not far behind them and she heard the fizzle of the possessed Collector dissolving.

"This is not over," Harbinger's voice echoed as the ash settled; she didn't doubt it, not one bit, but she couldn't bring herself to care as the burning pain finally began to dim.

"Tali, watch the perimeter," Garrus growled, dropping beside her as she finally felt the feeling return to her fingers. The quarian hesitated, but obeyed, moving to the edge of the platform as he laid a hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Jane, what in the hell were you thinking?" She could hear the rumble in his chest and let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"I'm fine," she rasped, swallowing quickly and trying again, "I'm fine." Carefully, she shifted each of her limbs and held in a sigh of relief as her hardsuit started dispensing medi-gel. "I definitely hate that guy."

Garrus didn't show any inclination that he thought she was funny, grip tightening on her shoulder. "I'm serious, Jane." He saw the flash in her eyes and tried a different tactic, "I'm worried, ok? Whatever is bothering you, don't let it get you killed." Her gaze softened and he felt his mandibles twitch into a smile that she couldn't see. "And don't lie to me. I can tell when something's on your mind."

"You know, you don't need to save my ass all the time, Garrus," she panted, straightening and leaning against the low wall. She let her head fall back and took a long breath. _Fuck this place._

"Someone has to," he replied, rolling his shoulders, "Otherwise our missions would be over a lot faster and there wouldn't be anyone to save the galaxy. Again."

She scoffed and flexed her hands experimentally before bending to pick up her pistol. "The universe wouldn't let me die," she replied casually, "I'm just too pretty." Though it was laced with sarcasm, Garrus had to pause and resist the urge to tell her that yes, yes she was.

"Enemies incoming!" Tali called out, saving him the trouble of answering and they quickly moved to the quarian's side. Shepard gave her shoulders a little roll and cautiously peered over the edge as the drones advanced slowly toward their hiding place at the edge of the platform. She nodded and all three popped out of cover, shredding the first line of Collector drones without trouble.

As they reloaded, EDI's voice sounded in her helmet, "Eighty-four percent."

"Get us out of here, EDI. Sooner rather than later, if you don't mind," Shepard said, hurling a blast of biotics at a particularly adventurous drone.

"I am simultaneously fighting Collector firewalls in over 8,000 nodes. I am taxed to capacity." Was the AI being snippy? She almost laughed at the thought—almost—until she remembered that said AI was the one who had to get them back to safety. _Shit._

"Shepard, they're coming back!" Tali yelled urgently and Shepard cursed under her breath.

"Just hold them off until EDI can get us out of here!" Shepard ground out, emptying another clip into the advancing drones.

* * *

The managed to fend off the rest of the Collectors, plus a few more of Harbinger's thralls, and after three more platforms joined with theirs, there was an eerie silence. The three shared a look and carefully rose, scanning the tiers of platforms for any signs of life as they moved carefully amongst the bodies. Satisfied that they had outlasted their attackers, they lowered their weapons and Shepard sighed, shaking out her arms.

"Shepard, you must manually reestablish my link to the command console," EDI reminded her and Shepard had to resist the urge to voice her irritation.

"Right. Ok," she sighed, moving back to the platform they had started on. Damn, had there really been this many? She was exhausted… No, her body was fine. Hell, she probably could have run a circuit if someone asked, but her brain was running on empty. She could barely put her thoughts in order and thanked the powers-that-be that she managed to successfully set up EDI's uplink.

"I have regained control of the platform, Shepard." EDI's interface blinked to life and Shepard barely contained her sigh of relief.

"I knew you wouldn't let us down, EDI," she said, letting her arms hang by her sides. Garrus and Tali came up beside her and she gave them each a nod.

"I always work at optimal capacity." With that matter-of-fact statement, EDI's orb disappeared and the platform shifted much more smoothly, gliding toward the center of the ship.

"Did you get what we needed?" Shepard asked, her exhaustion creeping into her voice. She leaned onto the console, letting her neck relax and her chin fall toward her chest. _How long have we been here?_ It felt like years.

"I found information that will allow us to successfully navigate the Omega-4 Relay," EDI's voice came back over the comm, "I have also found the turian distress call that served as the lure for this trap. The Collectors were the source. It is unusual."

Something about the way she said "unusual" made Shepard lift her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Seems pretty logical that they would have sent the initial message as bait," she replied as the platform landed with a metallic clang. Just a run through an enemy ship with plenty of hostiles waiting to ambush them and they could get back to the _Normandy_… Too bad they had no idea what was waiting for them.

"No, it is unusual because turian emergency channels have a secondary encryption. It is corrupted in the message." Shepard looked to Garrus for an explanation but he only shrugged and EDI continued, "It is impossible that the Illusive Man would believe the distress call was genuine."

"How can you be sure?" Shepard didn't doubt this possibility; she just wanted to be absolutely positive.

"Because I found the anomaly with Cerberus detection protocols. He wrote them." The note of disbelief in EDI's voice assured Shepard that she hadn't known. Shepard scowled, anger returning like a bolt of electricity.

"That son of a bitch!" she roared, whirling toward the path that would lead them out, "He betrayed us, sent us here to be ambushed! No wonder he didn't notify the turians! He could have gotten any one of us killed!" _Any one of you killed._ Her fists shook and she couldn't help her yell of anguish. No more. This was the last straw. That no good bastard had crossed the last line! No one put her crew in danger.

"Uh… Commander. We've got another problem," Joker said quickly, interrupting her tirade, "The Collector ship is powering up! You need to get out of there before the weapons come online; I'm not losing another _Normandy!_"

"I do not have full control of their systems. I will do what I can, Shepard. Sending coordinates for shuttle extraction."

Shepard shouldered her assault rifle and trotted down the few steps leading up to the platform. Her jaw was set and her eyes burned with a new intensity as they started down the dimly lit corridor. "Come on, let's move!" They ran through the ship with guns drawn and Shepard kept catching herself eyeing the flesh-like walls. Every glowing pod was a reminder of her failure and of the danger that faced the galaxy if she failed again. _Not if I have anything to say about it._

"Around the corner. Take the door on your right," EDI said quickly as they rounded the corner. The doors slid open and they scrambled down the shallow slope into a cavernous chamber. The buzz of the Collectors' insect-like wings drew their attention upwards and Shepard quickly dragged Tali behind cover.

"Hostiles!"

Bullets rained down around them and Shepard ducked her head instinctively. _Can't we just skip this part? We know how it'll end,_ she thought tiredly, firing shot after shot into the descending drones. The drugs Chakwas had given her were wearing off and her limbs were beginning to feel like lead weights, making her rifle harder and harder to hold steady with each shot. _So much for advanced cybernetics,_ she thought bitterly. Not that she had any right to complain, she had already been running on next to no sleep for weeks. Had she not been spaced, she would have given into exhaustion long before this point; Cerberus merely delayed her inevitable collapse by resurrecting her. She shook her head slightly as she reloaded. No, no she was _not_ grateful to them. Not for this price. If Cerberus hadn't gotten to her, she would still be peacefully dead and none of this would be her problem.

_Do you really want that? Would you really abandon the galaxy if you could?_

No. No, she wouldn't. Couldn't. And her crew… Well, what was left of her crew; they were worth it. The awe and joy in Garrus's face when he saw her… She couldn't leave, even if she wanted to.

"Direct intervention is necessary."

_Oh, just great._

The possessed drone turned its attention toward her position and she ground her teeth. "I have had more than enough of this shit!" she shouted, frustration and anger fueling her tired body as she jumped up and vaulted over the low wall in front of her. Her steps were even as she strode straight toward the thrall, bullets tearing into its barriers until the firing mechanism clicked plaintively; out of bullets. Fine, then she wouldn't use a gun; it was back on her shoulder in a second and her arms glowed with the telltale blue of her biotics. She could hear Tali and Garrus yelling at her to get down, but she didn't listen. She was tired and angry and she wanted to get back on her damn ship; if the Collectors were the only thing standing in her way, then she was going to murder them all. Biotics flew from her hands, staggering the glowing drone and she kept advancing. "Just… fuck… off!" she shouted with each blast until the drone disintegrated, leaving her panting in the middle of the room. Drained… She felt absolutely drained. A heavy hand on her shoulder spun her around and she could almost feel Garrus glaring at her through his helmet.

"Did you forget what happened last time you faced one of those alone?!" he roared, giving her a shake. Shepard didn't resist, head snapping back and she felt a dull ache bloom over her implant at the back of her neck. He couldn't see her wince behind her respirator and tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Do you care at all about your own safety?! We need you _alive_!" Tali placed a restraining hand on his arm, but he shrugged her off, pulling Shepard so they were inches apart. _Don't you dare die on me again, not again. I can't live without you again. _

Shepard didn't answer him, his grip supporting most of her weight and she sought to stabilize her footing before pushing back from him. He moved as if to grab her again but she held up her hand to stop him and she bent, propping her other hand on her knee as she tried to take a deep breath. "Garrus, I'm tired and I'm pissed off." She paused and took a breath. "I have had more than enough of this place and of the Illusive Man. I just want to get back to the ship and forget about this damn mission," she continued calmly, feeling the blood coming back to her face, and sighed. The cold sweat dripping down her back made her skin crawl and she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted a shower right then. "Now, if you have no more objections, we should get moving. You can yell at me for whatever lapses in judgment you seem to think I've made when we're not on an enemy vessel," she finished, straightening and drawing her pistol. The commander mask was back in place and she met his vehement gaze with her blank one.

"You know you don't have to rush off into the fray at the first sign of danger," he replied, voice low. Behind his helmet, his mandibles were tight to his face, eyes narrowing at her reckless stubbornness. "There's nothing wrong with hanging back and letting us—your _team_—take care of things. That's why we're here: to help you. Now would you please just delegate like every other commanding officer and take a break?" His frustration was becoming obvious and in that moment, Shepard caught a glimpse of her old teammate: young, reckless, and intractably determined to defy his commanding officers without being insubordinate. The silence stretched on as they stared at each other until Tali coughed awkwardly, holding up her hand in a gesture of covering her mouth.

"Maybe we can talk about this later?"

"No, we are going to talk about this now," Shepard cut in, squaring her shoulders. She didn't like being challenged—even by friends she trusted, even if she was wrong—and the way Garrus was undermining her command reignited the fire in her gut. "I will not put my team in any situation that I would not risk myself. So no, I will not 'delegate' and I will not have you two running on ahead of me. I refuse to sit back and let either of you be injured or killed just so I can be a little bit safer." She took a step forward and pointed an accusing finger at her turian friend. "I will not let my team risk their safety for my own. I will not risk anyone's safety for my own. Anything that happens to me is my fault, but I refuse to be the reason either of you get hurt. Whether you like it or not, Vakarian, I will be leading this team from the front and you will not tell me otherwise. Are we clear?" Another bout of silence met her lecture and Shepard wished she could rub her temples through her helmet as a dull ache spread behind her eyes. This mission was proving itself to be a lot more trouble that she thought it was worth. "Let's just get out of here," she finally said, voice tight as she side-stepped her turian friend.

Garrus didn't say anything, staring after her for a moment before falling into step behind her, coming up alongside Tali. To her credit, Tali said nothing, deciding it would be wiser not to bring up the tension that permeated the air amongst them. The sooner they were back on the _Normandy_, the better.

They ran through the ship in silence until they dropped down into a cavernous chamber and EDI's voice came over the comm, "I am opening a door on the far side of the room." The room in question made Shepard nervous; open spaces meant little cover and that meant more danger. And danger did not disappoint. A creature identical to the one they fought on Horizon hovered over the gathered Collectors and drifted toward the team's position toward the back of the room.

Shepard swore and slid down the incline to cover, trading her pistol for her latest toy: an ML-77 Missile Launcher. "Stay behind cover!" she barked, grabbing Tali's arm as the quarian moved as if to advance on the spider-like Praetorian.

"Shepard, what is that thing?" Tali demanded, sending out her combat drone to keep the advancing husks off them. Garrus had taken up a position near the top of the ramp, picking off enemies from above.

_Guess that's where the nickname came from,_ Shepard mused, but forced her attention back to Tali. "A pain in the ass. Just stay behind cover, and don't let it get above you," she answered, rising just long enough to fire three rockets in quick succession before dropping back down. On Horizon, she had assumed that there was only one of these… things. And yet here was another, lasers boring relentlessly into the wall above her head. Tali shifted so they were mere inches apart and gripped the commander's knee through her armor, making Shepard look up at her friend's masked face. She could see that Tali's eyes were wider than normal and the crackle of her respirator louder, and Shepard patted her hand reassuringly. A glance up the ramp gave her a glimpse of Garrus's helmet before he turned back to the open room and fired a few quick rounds into the monster.

Its screech made Tali's grip tighten on Shepard's leg and the human carefully pried her hand off, holding the three-fingered appendage in both of hers. "Don't worry. We'll make it out of—" Her sentence was cut off by the pulse of energy the Praetorian let off as it slammed to the ground; she peeked over the wall, trying to gauge where the creature had landed. "Help me get through its barriers, and we'll be out of here in no time," she promised, reloading the missile launcher in her arms. The quarian nodded, but Shepard could see that she was still afraid. _Why wouldn't see be? Two years ago, she was just a kid on her pilgrimage. She's still a child…_ Shepard shook off the thought and glanced over her cover again. Damn, it was getting close. Tali's shotgun discharged not far from Shepard's ear and she winced, but held down the reprimand that bubbled on her tongue as a husk fell at her feet. _A very capable child, apparently._

She launched three more rockets and threw a blast of biotics, causing her amp to tingle and burn under her skin. Another screech and the ground rocked beneath them, slamming her shoulder into the wall. It was much closer now, almost…

"Tali, move!" She shoved the quarian over the wall and turned, staring up at the monstrosity. Its gaping mouth, full of husks, was level with her face and she felt her cheeks pale. With a yelp, she dove in the same direction she'd thrown Tali and rolled behind a new section of cover as the Praetorian's laser obliterated the section of wall she'd been standing behind only moments before. Shepard could see Tali's hands shaking around her shotgun and nudged her arm gently, trying to give a reassuring nod before peeking over the wall. Again, she got an eyeful of disembodied husks and yelled instinctively before dropping back down. Fuck.

Garrus watched as the two women dodged from cover to cover and clenched his jaw, following the flying monster with his scope. Round after round left the barrel of the rifle, steadily breaking down the creature's barrier as Shepard launched her rockets at it. Shepard… _Why doesn't she understand how important she is? That the galaxy needs her more than anything else? Her, not us._ He huffed out a breath and fired the rest of the clip before popping the thermal clip and jamming a new one in. His head jerked up as Shepard yelled at Tali and the scope was to his eye in a flash. Spirits, it was almost on top of them. He fired as fast as the mechanism would allow, trying to keep the Praetorian off them as Shepard clambered to cover. He saw Shepard bump Tali's arm with her own as she glanced over the wall before immediately dropping back down. They were in trouble. He rose from his place behind cover and emptied the clip into the hulking monster's barriers, making it turn toward him. Its eyes glowed and he barely managed to duck down before the lasers powered up.

"Now, Shepard!" he yelled over the hum of the beam, back pressed against the wall.

Shepard looked up toward the ramp and felt her throat tighten as the laser scorched the wall where she knew Garrus had been moments before. Automatically, she rose and fired off her remaining rockets, setting it back on her shoulder when her ammo was exhausted, and unholstered her pistol. But she needn't have bothered because with a scream and a flash of energy, the monster disintegrated, leaving them alone in the empty room. Garrus stood and carefully descended the ramp and Tali stood and dusted herself off.

"Thank you, Shepard," the quarian said shakily, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there." The implication wasn't lost on Shepard and the human put an arm around Tali's shoulders.

"Exactly what I know you would have done: taken it down like a badass. I'm just here to help." She looked up to the turian as he came up alongside them and smiled weakly, forgetting he couldn't see. "Thanks for the help, Archangel."

He stared at her for a moment before letting out a disbelieving chuckle. "Happy to help, Commander. Now let's get out of here before this ship finishes powering up. Joker would hate us if we lost another ship."

"Damn right I would!" The pilot's voice cut through the comm and Shepard jerked her head as if to move away from the loud noise and scowled.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming Joker. Just be ready for us," she replied, patting Tali's shoulder and started across the room, "EDI said she'd opened a door, let's find it and—" The door slid shut and she cursed loudly. "Oh for the love of… EDI!"

"A temporary setback on Firewall 3217. Rerouting commands through Firewall 7164."

"I don't care about the tech, EDI, just make it happen!"

"Of course, Shepard. I have opened the door on the opposite wall. I will keep it open as long as I can."

Shepard spun and bolted through. "Thanks, EDI. How far are we from extraction?"

"You are one level above where you entered."

Shepard nodded. Good. They were almost out. She checked her pistol and settled her shoulders. "Alright. Let's get out of here."

* * *

Shepard felt around her belt and sighed. "Anyone have a thermal clip?" She didn't know how many Collector's they'd had to fight off through the open tunnel—really, she didn't know how many they'd faced on the ship—but she'd used the last of her thermal clips. Tali passed her one wordlessly, exhaustion written in her shoulders and Shepard nodded her thanks. "It can't be far now just—"

The unfortunately-familiar wheeze of husks reached her ears and she shoved the thermal clip into her pistol as she turned to face the narrow corridor.

"Have I mentioned that I _really_ hate these things?" Garrus grumbled, shouldering his rifle and taking out the first husk to round the corner with a bullet through its head.

"You and me both," Shepard sighed, slowly moving forward. Each husk fell with a gurgle and Shepard had to abandon her pistol on her hip in favor of her biotics as her thermal clip ran out. Tali came up beside her, blasting chunks out of the mutated humans with each round from her shotgun and Shepard nodded her thanks as her amp burned harshly against her skin. Rifle fire drowned out the husks moans, and she found herself thankful for that fact. They had been people once… The last husk fell as a sniper round tore through its neck and she looked back at Garrus as he popped his last thermal clip. "Sure hope that's all of them."

"We're out of time, Commander, we gotta go!" Joker yelled over the comm as the three soldiers ran down the corridor.

"You heard the man, everybody onto the _Normandy_! Move!" she yelled, pushing Tali ahead of her toward the shuttle. They stumbled on and Shepard slammed a hand against the door separating them from the pilot. "Get us out of here!"

The shuttle lifted off the Collector ship and raced back toward the Normandy as fast as its limited thrusters allowed. Shepard could see the Collector ship's systems coming back online through the windows and felt her heart pound. Not again… Not another _Normandy_…

The shuttle bumped into the hanger and she staggered out, heading toward the elevator; she could still hear Joker's voice in her ear, "Strap in people. We're gonna make them work for it this time!" Shepard tried to catch her breath, panting as the elevator ascended, before sprinting out through the CIC, sliding to a stop behind Joker's chair. She could hear the Collector weapons powering up, readying the particle beam, and instinctively looked over her shoulder.

"Joker…"

"I know, Commander! EDI, I can't dodge these guys forever; get us the hell out of here!"

"Specify a destination, Mr. Moreau." Shepard had to resist the urge to stomp down to the AI core and start ripping out wires, and Joker seemed to share her sentiment.

"Anywhere that's not here!"

"Very well. Engaging mass effect core." With a jolt, the Normandy flew through space, away from the Collector ship and Shepard let out a sigh of relief.

"Good work," she said tiredly, jerking her helmet off gratefully. With a nod, she started back through the CIC, putting a significant effort into not dragging her feet.

"Commander, Miranda wishes to see you," Kelly chirped and Shepard froze just outside the elevator.

"Thank you, Kelly," she finally managed through gritted teeth, "I'll take care of it." She slammed a hand into the call button with more force than necessary and stomped inside. The doors slid shut and she closed her eyes, head falling back. "Fuck!" She struck the wall with a gauntleted hand to punctuate her yell and sagged back against the doors. Her anger returned like a freight train and she felt like her chest was being crushed. _Get it over with. Find out what she wants, and then tell her to get the hell out._ She stepped away from the doors just as they opened and stormed toward her XO's office, ignoring the greetings from the crew in the mess. "Alright, Lawson. You told Chambers you wanted to see me, so here I am. What the hell do you want?" she snapped, settling into her hip and crossing her arms over her chest. Her armor was flecked with bits of dead Collector and her hair was a nest from being stuck under her helmet, making her look feral and dangerous. Miranda didn't answer right away, and Shepard could see the dark-haired woman's hands clench and unclench on top of her desk, but the Cerberus operative didn't even look up. Shepard's gaze grew flinty as the silence dragged on and she gave an exasperated sigh. She was tired and frustrated, and the main source of her frustration was sitting there, almost oblivious to her presence. Well, not oblivious. She could see the tension across Miranda's shoulders as she drummed her gauntleted fingers against the armor covering her bicep. Shepard shifted her weight forward and let her arms drop. "You have a lot of nerve to call me down here for nothing. Now if there's nothing else, I'm tired and covered in god only knows what. Come find me when you find your spine," she spat, turning on her heel.

"Shepard, wait," Miranda said, standing quickly. When Shepard turned to face her again, she looked down at her desk, fingers tracing over the stack of data pads there. The cool confidence was gone from her bearing and she looked almost afraid of what would happen next. "I find myself in the unpleasant position of asking for your help," she finally said, stepping around the desk. The look in her eyes betrayed just how uncomfortable with the situation she was; Shepard found herself wondering why, then, Miranda would come to her if it was so painful, but forced herself to remain silent, waiting for Miranda to continue. Miranda looked away for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself, and sighed. "I don't like discussing personal matters, but this is important."

"Well, gee. Since I don't have any of my own personal issues, why don't I just help you with yours?" Shepard cut in sarcastically, and Miranda's gaze swung back to the obviously-seething commander.

"Shepard, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for—"

"Save it. Just tell me what you want."

"It's not as simple as what I want. You remember when I told you my father designed me, tailored me to carry on his legacy? I ran from him when the opportunity presented itself, and I've never looked back, but… There was another reason I went to Cerberus for protection when I escaped."

"This isn't telling me what you need," Shepard growled, eyes narrowing under the limp fringe of her hair. Miranda held up a placating hand, but Shepard found it made her even angrier.

"I have a sister—a twin, actually—and he's still hunting her. Cerberus has been keeping her safe for me, until now," Miranda said hurriedly, taking a step toward Shepard, "She's been living a normal life on Illium, safe from my father."

"And you think something's happened to her."

"I think he's tracked her down, yes." Miranda's eyes were downcast as she wrung her hands and Shepard relaxed her stance. It was becoming more and more apparent how hard it was for Little-Miss-Perfect to ask for help and Shepard was happy to take that as part of her payback—she deserved to feel uncomfortable if she had the nerve to ask for help after everything – but in spite of her anger and hostility towards the Operative, she felt her shoulder's relaxing slightly, unconsciously reacting to the woman's obvious distress. "My sources indicate that he knows she's on Illium. I've tried to keep her hidden without impacting her life—" Shepard snorted, but Miranda continued "—but I'm out of options. He's too close, I need to move my sister's family before it's too late."

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Shepard asked, expression neutral. Miranda looked up at her, surprise and confusion coloring her features.

"Isn't it obvious? My father is extremely persistent. I want to be there on Illium while Cerberus moves the family to make sure none of his agents get too close." Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she hadn't expected any resistance and added, "I have a contact in Nos Astra that can—"

"Why should I even help you?" Shepard cut her off, hands on her hips. This was a waste of her time, her body ached, and she had more important things to worry about—like the fact that her employer was withholding valuable information from them and endangering her safety and the safety of her people. Miranda stared at her in shock and Shepard raised an eyebrow. The Cerberus officer had given her no reason to trust her, no reason to want her loyalty and devotion, and no reason to even want her on the ship. So why in god's name would she do this woman any favors? In fact, she owed most of her stress and frustration to this woman. The silence following her question allowed time for all her resentments to come rushing back to the surface, the neutral expression on her face pushed aside as the fire in her blood burned brighter. Her steadily growing malice towards the woman caused her gaze to rapidly darken as she waited for an answer.

"I… Shepard, there is no one else who can help me. My sister—"

"I have no memory of my family—because of you—and you expect me to invest my time, effort, and possibly the well-being of my crew to help sort out your problems because your family can't get along," Shepard barked, pointing an accusing finger in the dark-haired woman's face. "I owe you nothing, Lawson. Not a thing. So you're going to have to come up with a good reason as to why I should do anything for you," she finished, voice low, "What you did to me is no different than what the Reapers did to the Collectors; I'm just a shell, a tool you can use to run your errands, right?"

Miranda blinked at the anger in her commander's voice and took a step back. Everything Shepard had said was true, regardless of how much it stung, and there was nothing she could do to change that. She felt helpless, and she couldn't bear to do nothing. _But she's right. I ran from my father for molding me to be exactly what he wanted. Is Shepard so different? _She studied Shepard's face briefly and decided no, no she wasn't; she had been resurrected for the sole purpose of stopping the Collectors. Rebuilt for the purpose of fulfilling someone else's goal. Just like herself. All the malice – the anger and frustration – she saw there was her doing. Her father had engineered her, and here she was, the engineer of another human. The sickening thought that she had truly actually carried on his legacy of creation, made her stomach turn. That realization, in combination with the thought of her mistake, put a bitter taste in her mouth and she held her arms open in defeat.

"I can't ask you to do anything for me, Shepard," she finally said quietly, "because I made a mistake." Her expression was tight but she finally met the other woman's eyes and Shepard realized that for the first time, she could see shame in Miranda's gaze. "I'm sorry that my mistake has cost you so much, and I can't expect you to forgive me. It was my responsibility to bring you back exactly as you were, and I assumed that everything I needed was in your military file." She dropped her arms and sighed. "I should have known there was more than that, but I was so focused on bringing you back soon that I made a mistake. I understand if you hate me. But I'm not asking this of you for me. I'm asking for your help for my sister. She's innocent, and I just want to keep her safe." Miranda's voice broke over the last sentence and she brought a hand to her face, covering her mouth self-consciously.

Shepard had to look away and squeezed her eyes shut. That was it? She didn't have all the right paperwork? Shepard couldn't believe it—refused to believe it was so simple—but she couldn't ignore what she had said. And damn it, Miranda knew exactly what to say to make her care. Protecting an innocent, keeping them safe… She sighed, resigned to the fact that she knew she would help her out. She could never risk an innocent girl's life when she had to chance to help, even if the idea of refusing just to spite this woman was exceedingly appealing. It wasn't the girl's fault her sister was the bane of Shepard's existence right now. _Bitch better feel lucky I have such an inconvenient penchant for helping others_, she thought spitefully. She ran a hand down her face before looking back to her XO. "Fine. We'll check it out. But I'm not doing this for you, Lawson, understood?" Her gaze was stony and Miranda nodded slowly, unable to find her voice. "Good. We'll help your sister and then we'll never speak of this again." Without waiting for a response, she trudged out of the office, nearly running into Garrus on her way to the elevator. She mumbled an apology and quickly stepped past him, barely sliding into the elevator before the doors closed. Gratefully, she leaned back against the wall and sighed. She had a pressing appointment with her shower and then a long consultation with her bed.

"Commander, the Illusive Man wishes to speak with you about your mission."

Shepard let out an exasperated cry and glared up at the ceiling, hoping EDI's cameras were up there somewhere. "Tell him I really don't give a damn and he can wait," she replied angrily.

"I really must insist that—"

"EDI, tell the Illusive Man that I said to 'fuck off'. Those words," she snapped irritably and stepped through the doors as they opened to her cabin, "Now I'm going to bed, and I am going to stay there for the rest of the cycle, understood?" Her tone left nothing to be argued and there was a brief pause before the AI responded.

"Understood. Sleep well, Commander."

* * *

**Let me know what you think, guys!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the delay, but I come bearing gifts!**

**Once again, a huge thank you to greenyoda987. Shawty, you da best. You da, you da best. (Cookies if you can name that reference!)**

**Onward!**

* * *

Garrus paced feverishly across the battery, mind churning and desperately trying to sort out the maelstrom of emotions currently wreaking havoc on his subharmonics, finally letting out a roar of frustration. _Damn that insufferable woman,_ he thought, leaning heavily on the console. She was so… stubborn, headstrong, idealistic, brave, heroic… He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment; the memory of her staring up at him after he had pulled her out of the line of fire, rose unbidden to the front of his mind, and he forced his eyes shut tighter. She looked so small between his arms, so fragile, so in need of his protection… _No, stop it. You know she can take care of herself. She made it all the way to Commander without you. Stop treating her like some delicate little girl!_ He remembered the way she'd cried in his arms in the hanger, the vulnerable state she'd allowed him to see her in. Maybe she _was_ that fragile; maybe she did need him to protect her.

_Don't kid yourself. Just because you don't want to let her out of your sight again does not mean she needs you skulking over her shoulder._

His shoulders slumped. It was probably true, but he just couldn't seem to shake the feeling that he needed to be near her. Maybe it was for more selfish reasons, but he couldn't stand the thought of not being there for her again; what if she needed help, what if...The thought that she could die alone again… A chill settled over him and for an instant, the desperate, crippling sorrow that had washed over him when Shepard had died invaded his heart and it took all of his effort not to ask the AI—EDI, her name was EDI—to make sure Shepard was still alive; that he wasn't making it up. _Never again. I can't live without her again. _When she'd wrapped her arms around him on Omega, he had promised himself he would never leave her side again; he would never fail to save her again. A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that there was more to it than simply saving her; there was a less-innocent motive that spurred his desperate need to be near her. His memories returned to the night in the cargo hold and how nice if felt to hold her, how strange and intriguing and inexplicably good his talons felt in her hair, how fierce and beautiful she was in and out of armor, how her skin… _No, she's your commanding officer. Humans get weird about the chain of command and fraternizing, you know that. Just forget it._ But his mind wouldn't let him. The way their hands had lingered when she'd pulled him to his feet on the Collector ship, the spike in her heart rate that his visor had picked up… _Focus, Vakarian,_ he scolded himself, pushing away from the console to resume his pacing. There were more important things to worry about, like Shepard's psychotic need to put herself in danger.

His brow plates furrowed slightly and his talons knotted behind his back. How was she so oblivious to her own importance? Didn't she know they couldn't do this without her?

Step, step, step, turn. Three strides to each wall.

_You mean beyond how important she is to you?_

He pushed the thought away quickly. Three more steps to the opposite wall, turn and repeat. The battery was beginning to feel like a cage.

Shepard was the only one who could save the galaxy from the Reapers, he was sure of it, but she just kept tempting death, kept taking unnecessary risks. Why didn't she see that no one else could lead them the way she could, that she was too important to lose? _The Council was pretty quick to dismiss her,_ his subconscious chimed in, _Is she really so important to anyone but you?_ He stopped midstride, talons falling to his sides. She had to be… right? They couldn't do this without her.

_No, you can't. Maybe it's just you who can't do this without her. You said it yourself, you can't live without her._

_That isn't…_ He raked his talons down his face irritably. Maybe it was true; he certainly couldn't imagine going back to a life without her by his side. He'd lived through two agonizing years without her, by the end of which, he had almost been welcoming his inevitable death—welcoming the possibility of being with her again. But then she'd come storming down the bridge and saved him like an avenging angel, reigniting his will to live. She seemed to do that to everyone she met: light a fire underneath those unwilling to fight, make them believe that there is a cause worth fighting for_. Though, in your case, the "cause" is simply another chance to fight beside her, to protect her, to be with her._ He shook his head, reprimanding himself for allowing his thoughts to drift back to that again.

No, the galaxy needs her. She was the only one willing to accept the possibility of Reapers—to insist that _something _was happening—the only one willing to sacrifice anything to make sure the galaxy was safe. That was the reason she needed to stay alive. Yes, he needed her, but that was not the sole reason she needed to stay alive.

_Although it certainly helps._

Quashing the thought, he paced across the narrow space again. Anger burned in him as he remembered the Council's swift dismissal of Shepard's warning mere days after her funeral—a funeral they hadn't deigned to make an appearance at. She sacrificed thousands of live—human lives—to save them, and they call her a "deluded and overworked Spectre". _She is a far better person than I,_ he thought darkly, _She should have left them to die. Then maybe…_ He shook his head. No, it didn't matter; she was alive now, and he wasn't the one wronged by them. She was back, and that was more than enough; he needed to stop dwelling on the ifs. _Easier said than done, _he thought in exasperation. Even if she had left them to die, there was no way of knowing that the new Council wouldn't have sent them on the same futile missions, followed the same party line, and fed people the same lie that the Geth were the only concern. Would anything really have changed if Shepard had let them die? Thinking about it wasn't going to change anything.

Alive or not, the thought of the Council still filled him with contempt. The Alliance, he mused, wasn't much better. They had been so quick to call her a casualty of war and bury their greatest hero's memory—not even her body. No, Cerberus—a shady, rogue organization that had no reason to think Shepard would help them—were the ones to go and find her. Not her friends, or her allies, but her enemies. Garrus couldn't help the animosity he felt—no doubt bred from their encounters during the fight against Saren—but he was still grateful; skeptical, but grateful. _Whether or not they brought her back, they're still human-supremacist terrorists. They embody everything she fights against: conquest at any cost… How… how can she even be the same species at these people? She's nothing like them!_

Shepard… She was still a conundrum wrapped in principles and sprinkled with crazy. His mandibles flared in amusement, remembering their old banter. Scales, Meatsack, Birdman, Pyjak… They'd thrown names at each other across the battlefield, made bets on their kills, made dubious quips about mothers who were thankfully absent… Hell, they had fallen into it so naturally when she'd appeared on Omega. But her principles were still so ass-backwards to him. His brow plates furrowed again and he let out a heavy sigh. Why couldn't she just do the sane, logical thing and keep herself safe?

Maybe that was it. Logic… Was it so logical? _Well, yes. She's safe and she doesn't end up dead again. _But he knew it wasn't true as soon as he thought it. Logical to a turian, sure. But to a human, to her… Remembering her confused stare, and the odd crinkle of her nose he'd come to associate with deep thought and concentration, when he'd suggested that "the few have to be sacrificed for the many" he decided no, no it wasn't. Not to her. No, in her silly human brain, all life was equal, regardless of species, race, or past. Maybe it wasn't even a human thing—maybe it was just Shepard. She was practically a saint, her idealism surrounding her like an infectious halo. She just… made people want to _be_ better. Every life was sacred, and every life lost was a failure. A keen of pain escaped his throat, subharmonics resonating through the room as he thought of the defeat in her posture when EDI had told them that the captured colonists had died. If their deaths had affected her so, how had she taken the deaths of the human soldiers who had defended the Citadel on her orders? All so the Council could escape; the Council, who would dismiss her as soon as they could. His anger returned in waves, talons curling into fists. The thousands who died didn't matter to them. Was this how Shepard felt? Was this why needless death bothered her so much? He thought of the anger—the unbridled fury—he kept glimpsing on the battlefield and decided yes, it was. And it worried him. She had locked herself in her quarters for weeks after the Battle of the Citadel, alone with what he was sure was crushing guilt. What would happen now? He knew she couldn't save everyone, but Shepard? She took each loss as a personal failure. And there had been a lot of colonists on that Collector ship… The pressure she put on herself and the guilt he was sure she felt weren't healthy. She deserved more than always feeling like she failed, much more. Her successes vastly outnumbered her failures, yet she didn't seem to care. Each defeat was a drop of poison, slowly eating her from the inside out and… He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to force the image of Shepard wasting away out of his mind. _Maybe there is some way I can help. Maybe she just needs some reassurance… _He couldn't shake the feeling that she needed someone to help her, to save her from herself. And he desperately wanted to be the one who saved her.

Almost on instinct, he squared his shoulders and glared at a spot on the wall. _This is pointless_, the rational part of his brain argued. _Surely she understands that the sacrifice is necessary, both then and now. _Even as the idea formed, he knew it was bullshit. Sure, turian training had taught him that sacrifice was necessary for the greater good—drilled it into him, even—and that it was expected, but now… Now, alone and trying to justify it in the wake of his human friend's seething invective, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. _I never was a good turian_, he thought dryly. Maybe she had a point… Maybe sacrifices could be avoided. Maybe more people could be saved if people tried harder, if people weren't so focused on their own safety.

No. People would have to be sacrificed if it was between her life and someone else's. He couldn't accept the way she viewed her safety, refused to even consider it. Everything in his being demanded that he protect her, since she seemed hell-bent on getting herself killed. Why can't she just try a little harder, to focus on herself rather than put everyone else first?

_Though, would she really be herself if she did?_

Grudgingly, he had to admit that no, she wouldn't. And damn her, but he didn't want her any other way.

Wait, what? He leaned back against console slowly, as if he were afraid the floor would fall away. The realization struck him like a ton of bricks and his chest felt like it was going to burst: he wanted her. Spirits, he wanted her, _needed _her: needed her touch, needed to hear her voice, needed her guidance. The only thing to bring life back into his dead soul had been the feel of her in his arms, and it frightened him. For his entire life, he'd been trained to view commanding officers as sexless authority figures, to treat with the respect deserved by their rank alone, regardless of their personality. When had Shepard become a woman in his eyes? When had he started to see her as anyone other than his human commanding officer?

Without thinking, he pulled up the picture he'd stolen from her funeral; the one he had stared at for nights on end on Omega, the one he always ended up staring at: Shepard's hand on his arm, laughter in her face as she gestured to the Mako behind her. Other than the obvious physical differences, they looked the same now as they had back then: the same posture, the same relaxed attitude around each other. Yet, there was something else different, something more subtle… Sure, she had glowing cybernetics and his face looked like something to frighten children, but it was something else. Something discrete… He scrutinized the lines of her face, his posture, searching. Her expression was open, carefree and he realized that, despite the threat to the entire galaxy, she had never appeared afraid or off-kilter during those months. Now… now she seemed like she was drowning. His mandibles pulled tighter to his face and he turned his scrutiny to his own image. Spirits, he'd been young. Well, young and reckless and naïve. It was written across his face as plain as day, a glow in his gaze that showed just how much he idolized the woman in front of him and…

Right then… The moment was so clear in his mind.

* * *

"_Really, Shepard? Again? What has this poor, innocent machine ever done to you?" Garrus joked, crossing his arms loosely and settling into a hip the way she always did. Copying her mannerisms now… Spirits, he hadn't been on the ship long enough for that, but he couldn't seem to help it. He wanted to be like her, to be the great hero she was so effortlessly. He watched the top of her head as she dropped whatever was in her hands with a metal clang and tried to look at him from under the tank, a chuckle threatening to escape him._

"_Hey, if it wasn't meant to make a flying landing off a mountain, they shouldn't have put vertical thrusters in it," she replied, sliding out from under the tank. Grease was smudged on her cheek and clothes, dirt clinging to her hair and skin. She wiped her hands on the front of her thighs, streaking the loose cargo pants with a mix of oil and grit. She made a face and adjusted the hem of her cotton tank, ignoring just how dirty she felt. "How do you keep working on this and not feel filthy?" she finally asked, using her fingers to dislodge a few pebbles from her locks. Her eyes snapped up to his and he coughed, looking away from her awkwardly. _Caught looking, Vakarian? _he thought self-critically, but thanked the spirits she didn't push it._

"_I tend to use computers to run diagnostics, Commander," he replied evenly, carefully going over every word before he said them, "and only physically fix what raises alerts. Much neater." His expression was carefully schooled into neutrality, but his mirth was slipping through in the set of his mandibles and she could see it. Discretely, he took a long breath, catching her scent on the air between them; spirits, she smelled like gun oil, sweat, musk and… There was something else, he was sure but it hung just beyond his reach. It was like the flowers of Palaven—spicy and sweet—but at the same time it wasn't; he could drive himself mad trying to place it. Shepard, he decided, she smelled like Shepard._

"_You would be the expert, I suppose," she shrugged, untucking a rag from her back pocket and swiping it across her brow, "I doubt I did anything helpful." A sly smile played at her lip and she slung the rag over her shoulder. "Hell, I probably made it worse for you later. I'd say I'm sorry but..." Her lopsided grin made him chuckle before he carefully composed his expression._

_His sigh of exasperation was purely theatrical and she swatted his arm lightly, earning another laugh. "Honestly, I don't know why I don't just change my title to 'Mako Mechanic'. It's all I seem to do, anyway, what with the abuse you put on this poor defenseless vehicle." His tone was that of mock sadness and she rolled her eyes, hands on her hips._

"_Again, if it wasn't meant to do all the things we get up to out there, than they shouldn't give it all-terrain tires and thrusters," she teased, eyes shining. "Although if you could figure out how to equip it with _lateral_ thrusters…" He made a show of looking horrified and she stuck her tongue out at him, a gesture she'd explained as a childish retort to teasing._

_Spirits, she was so genuine... Wait, she was the Commander. _No, no, no. She's far above you. Don't treat her like a friend, she's your boss_. He realized she'd said something else and gave a slight shake of his head. "Sorry, you were saying, Shep… er, Commander?"_

_She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm, just enough pressure that he could feel it through his armor on the plates beneath, and pointed over her shoulder with her other hand. "I was saying, you think you can get her back up and running? I need to run a few more experiments on flying tanks." His mandibles widened in a slight smirk and her own smile widened a little. "I probably wouldn't have a tank if not for you."_

_He snorted and made a show of eyeing the tank skeptically. "Well, I'm sure you'd have one, it would just be a smoldering pile of scrap after a day or two. Now a _working _tank…" He half-heartedly dodged her indignant swipe and noted the unmasked mirth in her laugh and face, feeling an unsinkable swell of pride that he was the cause._

* * *

Garrus slowly withdrew from the thought, gaze softening slightly as he stared at the image. Looking back, he realized that she'd been just as beautiful then as she was to him now. _I was just too dense to realize it. Too dense to realize what she was when I had the chance._ He rubbed the unscarred side of his face absently and closed down the display of his omnitool, looking up at the ceiling. All the time they had spent joking on the SR-1, all the time making jabs at each other on the battlefield, all the time they had spent talking about... well, about everything, really, and it was only _now_ that he was seeing what they had had?

_Had? What exactly _did _you have? She was your Commander—and your friend, sure—but what else?_

Nothing else. She had always just been a friend, nothing more. But he couldn't quite quash the thought that maybe, just maybe, the spark between them had been something more; he had never seen her treat anyone else on the crew like she had treated him. _Now's not the time_, he reminded himself again. But it was a pleasant memory, besides, and a reminder of just how overburdened Shepard really was. Had she laughed—honestly and freely laughed—since she'd waltzed back into his life, guns blazing? A brief wrack of his brain assured him no, she hadn't. There was always something behind it, always some edge of bitterness that poisoned the ringing laugh he'd come to long for.

_Does she even remember? Does she even know what it used to be like anymore?_

He recalled the conversation he'd overheard from the mess—Shepard's shouting and Miranda's cautious murmur—and tensed. The implication was… Well, unsettling to say the least. To have something so integral to one's being just scooped out and erased… His heart tightened at the thought of not remembering Solana, or his mother, or hell, even his father. Without family… No wonder Shepard looked lost. She felt alone, wrong. He knew her parents had died on Mindoir, but at least she had known of them before. Now… What would fill that gap in her memory?

Beyond his worry, it also made him think, and he didn't like the direction his thoughts were taking. _What does she remember? What else did Miranda "accidentally" leave out? _The picture flashed into his vision and he forced his eyes shut. The image might as well have been burned into his retinas for all the good it did. Pining over it night after night on Omega had burned it into his memory. _Does she remember?_ He absently rubbed his forearm, grazing over the spot where her hand had been; he could remember her hand on his armor as if it had only been moments before. _How much of her memory was gone?_ Miranda had mentioned her personal memories hadn't been in her file—the woman was perfect and she'd assumed a _military_ file had all the information she needed—so what did that mean? What would be missing from Shepard? Their friendship seemed to be in tact but how much of that was an automatic response—a trained reaction to his presence that couldn't be scrubbed from her brain—and how much was actual recollection? Did she remember their talks, their jokes? Did she remember what she'd said to him on Saleon's ship?

At least that part of her was the same, he mused. Personal memory or no, she was still stalwartly determined to see the good in everyone and put every other person before herself. Ruefully, he realized he'd never thanked her for everything on the first _Normandy_. He'd assumed that they would see each other again; he hadn't been wrong but the circumstances…

Garrus suddenly felt the need to talk to Shepard, to unload his heavy thoughts somehow. Even if they didn't make sense, even if she didn't understand, he would feel better getting it off his chest, as the humans said. His feet carried him out of the battery before he had decided what he was going to do and it wasn't until the elevator was already making its achingly slow ascent that he realized the Crew Deck had been completely empty. Absently, he ignored the minor oddity. _This is a human ship, maybe they have some weird customs to observe or a meeting or… Something. _He managed a small chuckle, trying to imagine a Cerberus party that didn't involve gunfire before his focus returned to the doors in front of him. What exactly did he plan to say to her? _Hi, Shepard, I just realized that I need you in my life as more than a Commander and friend and I just wanted to run that by you. Is that alright? Great. _He mentally slapped himself and shifted his weight between his feet, feeling the elevator's already ploddingly slow ascent decelerate further before inching to a stop. The doors slid open silently and any other time he would have pondered the oddity of a machine that moved as though it would break at any moment, but sounded as though it were brand new, but his mind was too full. With a deep breath, he stepped out and came face to face with the angry lock interface of Shepard's cabin. His brow furrowed in confusion and he lifted a hand to knock on the door when EDI's voice piped up over the intercom.

"Officer Vakarian, I would advise against disturbing the Commander."

Garrus started, looking up instinctively. "Why?"

"Because, it is 0300," she stated simply. His mandibles pulled tight to his face in embarrassment and he mumbled something unintelligible. Suddenly the conundrum of the empty mess seemed as obvious as day. He'd certainly lost track of time… Lots of time. He knew he should just turn around and go back to the battery and talk to her later, but his feet felt rooted to the spot. As quickly as it had erupted in him, the need to talk to her about everything was swiftly overshadowed by the unrelenting need to merely _see_ her – to just make sure she was okay. If he couldn't talk to her, fine, but he had to make sure she was safe, that she was unharmed. That she was alive. Even if only to ease his mind for the moment.

"EDI, please. I'm worried about Shepard. She and I… We've been through a lot," he started, ignoring the part of him that was laughing at the idea of reasoning with a computer, "I'm just worried about her, is all. I just wanted to check on her."

"My scans indicate that Shepard's vital signs are within acceptable range, and that she is in fact sleeping." The AI almost sounded like she was chastising him. His eyes narrowed slightly and he fought the frustrated growl trying to rise in his chest. "I would suggest requesting to speak with her in the morning."

He scrunched his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down. _If I can just get this door open, just see her for a second…_ The rational part of his brain scoffed at him, telling him that EDI wouldn't lie to him – if computers could even lie – but he couldn't shake the image of her crying in his arms…

"I know, I know. EDI, please…just… can you let me in? I won't wake her, I just… For my sake, please, let me check on her?" He sounded desperate and the pleading note lining his voice made him cringe internally. Spirits, he sounded like a petulant child. "She's my best friend EDI. She's been through so much and I… I just want to make sure she's okay… I just need to see that she's alright… that she's alive," he whispered towards the ceiling, hoping that EDI couldn't hear the fear and desperation in his voice.

There was a beat of silence before the AI spoke again, "Very well. But I must insist that you not disturb the Commander. She already sleeps very little." Was she genuinely concerned? Garrus shook it off and nodded gratefully, watching as the lock switched from angry red to friendly green. Carefully, he stepped into the room, surprised to find it fully lit and he looked inquisitively at EDI's interface. Didn't humans sleep in the dark, like every other species? He was sure he had read on the extranet that only human children left lights on while they slept.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked quietly, gesturing to the space. He could see a small, shaking lump buried in the blankets of Shepard's bed, but it was too small to be her… Wasn't it?

The blue orb blinked to life and her synthetic voice replied, barely above a whisper, "Commander Shepard has not dimmed the lighting in her cabin since her second night on the _Normandy, _Officer Vakarian. She wakes often and I believe she is suffering from something Mr. Moreau calls 'nightmares'."

Nightmares… Spirits, why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she say that she wasn't sleeping? "Joker knows?"

"Mr. Moreau requested that I monitor the Commander when she first returned to the _Normandy."_

Joker knew? Joker was watching her? Jealousy flared in his chest and it took a herculean effort not to growl out the primal anger rising in his throat. His talons clenched and unclenched experimentally, but he said nothing in response and inhaled slowly. _Stop it. She's not yours. You don't have any reason or right to be trying to defend her – besides Joker is only worried about her. Just…Just go check on her and deal with this later, whatever this is. _His feet carried him silently down the two steps into her quarters and he inched closer and closer to the edge of her bed. From here, he could see her face buried against her pillow, brows furrowed and dotted with a cold sweat, and she twitched erratically. Her legs were pulled up to her chest and she looked so impossibly small lying there, curled in a ball. He could see the frantic movement of her eyes behind their lids, the tension that coiled in her muscles down her neck and across her shoulders. Her hands clenched against the sheets and he could see the quiver of her lip, her body curling up even tighter as if expecting a blow. With the same caution that Omega had instilled into him, he sat on the edge of her bed and waited. Her head thrashed to one side and a muffled whimper slipped past her parted lips, her hair fanning out under her cheek. But she didn't wake, allowing him to let out the breath he'd been holding, and he gingerly touched her arm. Spirits, she was soft…

The tension in her shoulders eased and her expression softened, but her eyes still flicked wildly under their lids. Garrus watched her sleep for a few moments more, mandibles twitching as his eyes unabashedly roamed what part of her was not under the cover of her sheets. Her beauty in battle had surprised him before but this… Seeing her so defenseless, so un-Commander-like, was shocking. And yet it didn't disgust him—not the way it should have if she were a turian woman—and he found himself marveling at how unprotected she was. His touch on her arm had been light, but he had felt her flesh give beneath his talons and he wondered how she could throw herself at things the way she did—the way she had before Cerberus, even—without crumbling like glass. His eyes slid down the delicate curve of her neck, following the bare expanse of her shoulder to the edge of her sheets before moving back to her face. Heavy shadows rimmed her eyes and he realized that her sleeplessness had been obvious if he had been looking, if he had been more focused on what his friend needed than on selfishly keeping her alive. Was that why she was so reckless? Because she was just too exhausted to think about it? She murmured something in her sleep and he tensed, expecting her to wake and shoot him out the airlock before he could explain.

_Explain what? How you were creepily watching her sleep after you convinced the AI to let you break into her room?_

She stilled again and his eyes followed the line of her cheekbone to her lips—were they as soft as they looked? As soft as the rest of her?—and he leaned forward unconsciously. Her scent washed over him and he took a long, slow breath, letting it block out everything else as he shifted back away from her. Spirits, he needed to leave but… Something held him there. No, not something, someone. Her. Without thinking, he brushed the damp fringe of her hair from her forehead, relishing the soft feel of it. A low rumble started deep in his chest and he had to force it down quickly, lest it disturb her. Any turian would have heard the protectiveness—the possessiveness—in the sound and he thanked the Spirits there were none of his species on the ship. How many times had he made that sound in the past without thinking, even on the old _Normandy? _Letting out a near-silent sigh, he carefully took her small hand in one of his, mindful of his talons on her fragile skin, and absently examined her many fleshy fingers.

When her grip tightened on his hand, he froze, barely breathing, and waited. But instead of releasing him, she wrapped both hands around his and pulled it up to her cheek, sighing contentedly. Peace fell over her expression and she visibly relaxed, a low hum escaping her. The sound she made would have done wonders for his pride any other time, but his fear of being discovered forced it to the wayside. His eyes were wide as he watched her sleep, panic written in the twitch of his mandibles as he desperately tried to think of how to escape without waking her.

_Now you've done it, Vakarian. How are you going to get out of this?_ His mind was blank and it was all he could do to calmly, quietly wait for her grip to slacken.

It was a long, slow process to extricate his hand from hers; he found himself freezing like a varren caught stealing rations with every shift of her body, every quiet sigh. Each brought forth a silent prayer that she would remain asleep as he leaned halfway over to avoid touching her. Every shift of his hand to escape her grip was minute and calculated despite the panic that felt like a krogan was sitting on his chest.

Garrus didn't know how long it took, but when he finally extricated himself from Shepard's grasp, he took a quick step back from her bedside, warily watching her as he made for the exit. She continued to doze, a light hum escaping her with each breath—Spirits, maybe she was a turian in a human body—and he finally relaxed when the doors closed behind him. He exhaled loudly and leaned against the wall across from the lift, eyes sliding closed.

"Officer Vakarian," EDI's voice interrupted him and he jumped, automatically falling into a defensive stance. When his gaze found no threats, he straightened and looked up around the ceiling.

"Yeah, EDI?" he replied, confusion apparent.

"The Commander's sleep pattern is more peaceful than it has been since her assignment on the SR-2. I am not sure what you did, but I believe it has helped." There was a pause and he could almost imagine her shuffling her feet awkwardly. "Thank you."

He stood in the oppressive silence for a moment, absorbing the bizarre and mind-boggling realization that a sentient computer had just thanked him for helping someone that—he assumed—it cared about. _Never a dull moment on the Normandy_, he mused silently, calling the elevator. If he was lucky, he could catch an hour or two before he was on duty.

* * *

Shepard felt herself floating—drifting aimlessly—and though she could see nothing through the blackness that enveloped her vision, she knew this moment. In a few seconds, she would begin to struggle to breathe. A few more and she would be out of air. Her death; she relived it in her nightmares and this night was no exception. Her lungs burned as she gasped for the last shreds of breathable oxygen, the tips of her fingers and toes beginning to numb.

_This is it._

The moment when all of her air was gone; unable to live and unable to die. On the razor's edge. Her chest ached as her lungs desperately sought to fill with air but received none. Her diaphragm felt like it was slowly being torn to shreds and she forced her eyes shut, though it changed nothing.

For a few moments, she waited, pain building in her body as she waited for the moment when the chill of space washed over her and then the numbness of falling into death's void, but it never came. Her eyes flew open though they saw nothing and she frantically tried to reach for her helmet—to cover the leaking air tubes on the back, or to rip off her respirator and end it, she never knew—but her body didn't respond. Her mouth opened to scream, to cry, anything, but no sound came out. No air.

This moment that she relived so vividly had been the most agonizing second of her first life, and now it stretched on for what felt like decades. An eternity in the limbo between life and death. She knew it was a dream, but it still terrified her—it felt real, it felt the same—and she tried again to reach her helmet.

_Please, kill me or let me live but don't leave me like this!_

"Shepard, Shepard, Shepard." The voice made her blood freeze and she felt a grip settle around her head, talons pricking the skin of her forehead and temples. Wait, where was her helmet? "You never cease to surprise," the voice continued, dual-tones flanging with barely contained emotion; a growl of subharmonics echoed inches from her ear, making her to try to twist away, but the taloned grip on her head tightened, holding her in place. A grip like iron circled around her shoulders, tightening until her back was pressed against something hard and cold. "First you leave us to die, and then you have the nerve to get a second chance at life."

Air rushed into her lungs, just enough to let her manage one word: "Saren." Her respiratory system seized again and she tried to push against the grip around her, but she may as well have been willing a star to stop burning.

"So you do remember those you've murdered," he spat, flexing his talons around her skull, "Do you remember all of them, or am I just special?" He turned her head roughly and she saw a pinpoint of light, steadily growing until it was the size of a dinner plate, less than a yard from her face. She could just make out the outline of his arm across her shoulders, the bulk of his shoulders to either side, and tried to turn her head away, but he turned her head more forcefully back to the light. "Remember them?" Faces began appearing in the light—men and women, soldiers and civilians—all staring at her accusingly. And she found that she knew each of their names; each seemed to be shouted within her skull with such force that it might brand itself there permanently. Each name sent a wave of despair over her, each a reminder that they had died on her watch, under her orders. Every one of them was a failure that she could never atone for. _Why?_ their voices echoed in her head, _Why did you do this to us?_ It rose in pitch and volume with each face that flashed before her, melding into an intrusive white noise, and she could feel tears burning in her eyes, sliding down her face. Jenkins glared at her, accusation in his gaze. _Why did you let me die? _Even though she knew there was nothing she could have done, guilt stabbed at her and she deflated with each death for which she knew she was to blame. "Do you remember how you murdered each and every one of them?!" Saren roared in her ear, pushing her forward until she was staring into Ashley Williams' shadowed eyes. Splatters of red painted the Gunnery Chief's brow, dripping from her scalp, under her dark hair. The flesh of her cheek was gone, burned away, leaving only the bone and tendon holding her jaw together, and Shepard felt bile rise in her throat.

"Why me, Commander?"

_Please no, Ash. Please, I didn't mean for this happen. _She desperately tried to form words, to deny what she knew was coming, but no sound came from her mouth. Charred teeth ground together and Ash's eyes narrowed when she got no answer.

"What did I do? Was I not as important?"

_No, no. Please, no. That isn't what happened._

"Tell her, Shepard. Tell her how you left her to die with Kirrahe and his men on that Spirits-forsaken world." Saren pulled her back again and the Salarian captain's face stared despondently back at her, green blood splattered up his neck and onto the lower part of his face. The ruined joint of his shoulder was a grisly mess, bone jutting from tissue where his arm had been ripped away, leaving a bloody stump.

Her lungs managed to force in a breath and she sobbed out, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry, Shepard?" Saren rumbled, "Sorry that you caused all of their deaths? Or sorry that you have to live with it." She felt like she was being burned from the inside out and tried to pull against his hold, nausea falling over her in waves. How many had died because of her decisions? How many had she watched die in the Blitz? How many had died on Virmire? On the Citadel? How many friends had she buried? A wordless sob tore from her again and Saren let her drop onto her hands and knees, her forehead inches from the ground as she took a pain-laden, shaking breath. "Why were you so special?" he asked quietly from behind her and she could hear him take a step to her side, "Why did you get to live again and not Ashley? Not Nihlus? Not me?" He was in front of her now and she stared at his feet, coughing down another gasp of air but unwilling to get up.

_What's the point?_ she thought, squeezing her eyes shut, _I don't deserve another lifetime. Just kill me._

"Look at me!" he roared, grabbing her chin. She tried not to look, desperately tried not to see, but from her place on the floor, she could see the hole in his jaw, through his head, and out the top of his skull. Bits of flesh and brain hung from the wounds and his eyes, empty and cold, stared at her. His cybernetics that had once glowed hauntingly blue were dark, the metal dull and tarnished, and she could see cracks in his plates. "Why you?" he whispered, stepping back from her again, turning his back to her.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, fingers curling into fists against the ground, "I didn't choose this. I don't want it." Her head lifted when a feral snarl escaped him and she saw his teeth flash, his talons swing towards her before—

Something warm brushed her arm and she was temporarily blinded by a flash of light. Shepard spun, searching, but spots danced before her eyes and she had to stop and wait for her vision to clear. For a moment, all she saw was an expanse of space, stars flying around her through the open void and, despite the manner of her death, she felt comfort. The stars had been there when no one else was, when no one else could be. She took a step forward and found herself oddly at peace with the fact that there was nothing beneath her feet. _Anything is better than… that._ She cast a sweeping glance around her and realized she didn't know any of these stars. No constellations appeared, no familiar planets or systems, but she still felt no fear.

Something wrapped around her hand reassuringly and she was blinded again, the stars and their peace disappearing to be replaced by…

She blinked rapidly to clear her eyes and stared at the landscape around her. Grass brushed against her shins and a warm breeze caressed her cheek, lightly playing through her hair. Trees dotted the otherwise empty field and she could make out the bright yellow blossoms of a few brave wild flowers. It was… beautiful. Idyllic, even. She didn't dare move, didn't dare risk breaking the serenity that seemed to be content to ignore her presence.

"No fair, Stupid! You cheated!" a boy's voice rang out sulkily.

"Nu uh, Pansy! I'm just faster than you!" a girl's replied pridefully.

She searched for the source of the sound, barely discerning the silhouettes of two children bolting over the top of a hill. Nothing about their faces or appearances was visible, but she felt deep in her gut that she knew them.

"John! Jane! Come inside, it's time for dinner!"

"Coming, Mama!" they chorused before turning and bolting back the way they had come.

John. Jane. She strained to see the children clearer, but as they ran further away, toward a small prefab set against a hill, she could see less and less of them. The sun caught the boy's hair, revealing a shock of red before they wove under a tree and into a shadow. From the prefab, she could make out the shape of two adults. Parents.

_Please, let me see them, _she begged silently, taking a few cautious steps forward, _Just for a second, that's all._

The children ducked around their parents' legs and scrambled into the home, drawing a ringing laugh from the mother. The father wrapped an arm around her waist and gave it a loving squeeze, planting a light kiss on her cheek before towing her inside as well. Shepard felt her chest ache and she jogged a little closer.

_My family… My home…_

She went to take another step and it all began to fade, color bleeding out and the ground falling away until she drifted. Her body felt like it was floating through water, neither hot nor cold, and she let her eyes fall closed. _Anything is better than a nightmare._

* * *

Joker rubbed his eyes tiredly; he reached over to set the autopilot, reveling in a rare moment of cooperation with what he dubbed the "ship cancer", pulling his hat lower on his head and closing his eyes. Maybe he could catch a few winks before they hit the relay…

His mind wouldn't cooperate, cycling through everything that had happened on the ship. He couldn't really get around like everyone else, so he had to make do with the intercoms, cameras, and gossip to live vicariously through the crew. And the addition of an AI made that a little difficult.

Well, not _difficult_ as much as _awkward_, since he had to ask her to patch him in to spy on everyone's lives. But there was a plus side: someone would always be looking out for Shepard. Even if Shepard didn't want someone watching her, he had managed to convince EDI that it was alright to disobey that order. _Convince a computer, right,_ he thought dryly, but she had agreed, if only because he had explained his concerns about Shepard's state of mind.

Remembering her crying in the comm room made him sigh. Damn, she reminded him of Hannah sometimes; she was like his unofficial little sister. A little sister who happened to outrank him by a good bit and had a penchant for blowing things up, but still a little sister. And if what he had learned through his voyeurism was true, he had a reason to be worried about her again. _Fucking Cerberus._

With a sigh, he pulled up the biometric feed from Shepard's cabin and let his eyes skim over the readings. _Alright, let's see how bad her nightmares are tonight_, he though dismally, fingers dancing over the controls. He knew he could never do anything, but observing, knowing that he was at least watching out for her, made it seem a little bit less like doing nothing. His brow furrowed and he carefully read over the numbers again. This was… Shit, she had never been this calm, never slept this well.

"EDI?" he finally called out, flipping through the scans again. There was an uncharacteristically long delay—a few seconds at most—before she responded.

"Yes, Mr. Moreau?"

"Shepard, is she...?"

"The Commander is sleeping, with no signs of any distress," the AI replied, sounding almost surprised.

"That's… Well, whatever it is, this is good. She deserves to get some rest." He paused. "Any idea why she suddenly isn't having horrible nightmares anymore?"

The AI didn't answer and he sighed, closing the feeds and pulling his hat back down over his eyes. He wouldn't die if he didn't find out, he decided, determined to get that little bit of sleep.

EDI watched the pilot settle back into his chair and turned her attention to the hallway outside the Commander's cabin, watching the _Normandy_'s only turian crewmember lean against the wall. She had been… well, conflicted at first to disobey the Commander's order but now… It seemed he had done the right thing. How did organics justify obeying an order when disobedience could, in fact, be the better option?

"Officer Vakarian," she chimed over the intercom, watching his startled reaction.

* * *

**As usual, let me know what you think!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello again! Sorry this took a little longer, I had a severe case of writer's block.**

**As always, props to greenyoda987 for reminding me how the English language works. (I tend to forget when I'm writing at 2 AM)**

* * *

Shepard woke in stages, first gaining awareness of her sheets against her skin, then of the light against her eyelids and finally, when she'd opened her eyes, of someone pounding on her door. With a mumbled curse, she groggily thrashed free of her bed and stumbled to the door. _Who in the hell is knocking on my door in the middle of the night?_ she thought tiredly. It was the first time she'd woken up that cycle, and she knew that meant that she had hours left of the night cycle. Hours to be spent seeking rest that never came. With a sigh, she keyed in the lock code and watched the doors slide open, greeted by the sight of Tali wringing her hands in the hallway. Shepard's brow quirked slightly and she brushed the nest of her hair back from her forehead. "What's up, Tali?" she asked, grogginess betraying how recently she'd awoken.

"Shepard! Keelah, we were worried about you!" the quarian burst out, stepping into the room and looking around. Shepard stared at her from the doorway, hand raised halfway up to rub the sleep from her eyes. Her expression betrayed her confusion and Tali didn't miss it.

"Tali, what are you talking about? It's the middle of the night!" Shepard followed Tali further into her cabin and flopped onto her couch, tucking her feet under herself.

"No, Shepard, it's not," Tali replied evenly, sitting across from her, "It's 0900. We were worried, since you were supposed to be on duty an hour ago."

Shepard didn't say anything, staring at the girl across from her, searching for a sign that she wasn't serious. Of course, her mask made it impossible but that didn't stop Shepard from trying. A twitch of her eyes, a change in her breathing, anything like that would give her away, but Tali was impassive. No way, she never slept through the night, let alone late.

"I appreciate the joke, Tali, but seriously. What do you need?" she finally said, leaning forward so her elbows were propped on her knees. Tali blinked at her and Shepard ground her teeth silently, but waited.

"I'm not… Shepard, this isn't a joke. You… You overslept." The statement seemed to sound as improbable to Tali as it did to Shepard. "I just wanted to check on you but… Shepard, have you really never slept late?"

"Not recently Tali, no," she replied tightly, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. "EDI, what—"

"It is 0900, as Tali'Zorah has indicated," EDI interrupted, anticipating her question.

Shepard scowled and let her hands drop between her knees again. How was that… She couldn't complain, really—she needed the rest—but it still irked her. What had changed? What made it suddenly possible for her to sleep through the night? Everything they'd seen on the Collector ship should have haunted her, what she'd said to Garrus should have kept her mind buzzing all night; she should have felt sorry for what she said, should have been wondering where the sudden cynicism in him had come from, yet none of that had happened. Then she remembered her dream, pointedly skipping past its terrifying beginning and focusing on its peaceful conclusion. It had been… Nice. It had been nice, she decided, but it still didn't make sense. Deep in the back of her mind, she knew she had seen Mindoir, her family… herself as a child. Was that the way it had been for them? Back before the attack? She shook her head and looked back to Tali, giving her a small, apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, Tali. I haven't been sleeping and I just… I didn't think it could be that late." She stood slowly and stretched, her shirt inching up over her stomach as she lifted her arms above her head. Tali stared enviously, but quickly got to her feet and headed for the door.

"Forget about it, Shepard. We were just worried. I'll see in down in the mess?" Shepard nodded and the quarian took her cue to leave, door sliding shut behind her.

With huff, Shepard padded to her shower, shedding garments and palming the temperature control. A grateful sigh escaped her lips and she let the steaming water massage her unusually well-rested body, forehead leaning against the cool tile. Her eyes slid closed and she wrapped her arms around her middle, a shudder wracking her body as her dream came back to her again. She could still feel Saren's grip on her skull, still hear his voice—accusing in her ears—and still see the faces of the dead behind her eyelids. "Why you?" they all asked, the question echoing in her skull and she found she didn't have an answer. She just didn't know. Tears mingled with the water dripping down her face and she let out a shaky exhale, opening her eyes slowly. She asked herself the same question every damn day and she never came up with a good answer. Why in the fucking hell did she get a second chance? She pushed away from the wall exasperatedly and grabbed her shampoo from the small shelf on the wall and started lathering up her hair with the lavender-scented suds. As she rinsed her hair out, her thoughts returned to her vision of Mindoir and she smiled. If that was her family's life all those years ago, she was happy. To know anything about that gap in her memory—to know that there was something good that had happened—made her feel like maybe she _could_ handle this. Maybe she could save the galaxy again. _Whether it wants me to or not_, she thought as she slid a bar of soap over her skin. A girl could dream.

Happily clean and fully revitalized, she tugged her uniform on and toweled the excess moisture from her hair. Maybe she could talk to Mordin about what could be making her memories come back. Or whatever was happening. She hoped they were her memories, at least. If not… Well, they were nice either way. She bounced on the balls of her feet as the elevator inched down, thrumming with energy and—for the first time—feeling like herself. She finally felt like the real Shepard, the Shepard that saved the galaxy from Sovereign and the geth. She smiled and stepped off onto the crew deck and rounded the corner into the mess.

The crew's stares all locked on her and she gave a nod of greeting, accepting a mug of coffee from Gardner before taking her seat at the table. She tried to ignore the feeling of eyes boring into her, sipping the too-strong coffee carefully, but it was proving to be much more difficult than she'd anticipated. Finally, she set the mug down and cast a sweeping look around the room.

"Alright, what's going on? Is there something on my face?" She scrubbed at her cheeks to punctuate her point and there were a few uneasy chuckles.

"No, you… You look good, Shepard. Rested. It's a good thing." She turned her gaze onto her turian best friend across the table and his mandibles widened in a slight, lopsided grin that made her smile widen. "That, and seeing the great Commander Shepard showing up late like the common rabble is something we'll never get to see again," he teased, earning him a mock glare before she stuck her tongue out at him childishly. In that second, he felt his heart stop and start again, momentarily losing control of his subharmonics and letting a happy trill escape, but the laughter around the table covered it up. Spirits, she was exactly as she had been. _Maybe all she needed was sleep…_

"Yeah yeah, laugh it up, Vakarian. Mark my words, there will be payback!" she threatened, eyes flashing over the lip of her coffee mug.

"I'd like to see you try, Shepard," he retorted, leaning his elbows onto the table and folding his talons together, observing her over them with a quirked browplate. She rolled her eyes and finished her coffee, gesturing with her hand in a way that made the human crew members scoff and gasp. He wasn't quite sure what it meant—he'd have to ask her, or maybe Joker—but he still laughed as she returned her mug and headed back toward the elevator.

"I'm pretty sure you sorry lot have better things to do than gawk over the fact that I slept in," she said, raising her voice so the entire crew could hear, "We're on our way to Illium, so get to it." With a quick turn on her heel, she disappeared around the corner and Garrus hummed appreciatively, earning a confused look from Donnelly.

"You do know she just threatened you with bodily harm, right mate?" he drawled, eyeing the turian skeptically. Was that a thing for them, getting threatened by attractive women? Ken really didn't understand aliens, but hey, whatever floats your boat.

"I'm sure, but she'd never go through with it," Garrus replied with a chuckle, crossing his arms smugly.

"And what makes you think that?" the human pressed as the mess emptied slowly, "The Commander isn't one to make threats lightly, you know."

"I spent almost a year with her on the SR-1; she's my best friend. I think I know when she's kidding and when I should be running for cover," Garrus replied, standing. Ken gave him a lazy salute and Garrus nodded in response, heading back for the battery. His smile couldn't be contained, joy coming off him in waves in the privacy of his sanctuary. Seeing her joke and smile again… Relief flooded through him; she was looking so much more like herself, so much, in fact, that even the crew who barely knew her noticed the change. If only it would stay that way…

* * *

Shepard waited until the Illusive Man was done talking at her to speak, comfortably settling her weight into her hip and crossing her arms.

"Understood. Now for what I have to say." She took a breath and managed a ferocious glare. "Fuck you, you son of a bitch." Damn, it felt good. "The next time you decide to leave out valuable information—like the fact that a certain mission is a trap—think about the fact that next time, I will come back and find you and remove what is left of your nonexistent balls with my bare hands." Jabbing a finger at him she added, "Never put my people in danger, or I swear to every power in the galaxy, I will end you." Without waiting for a response, she stalked off of the QEC grid and out of the comm room.

"You enjoyed that," Joker accused over the intercom and she laughed, striding toward the galaxy map.

"Maybe a lot," she admitted, leaning on the railing and Joker took his turn to laugh. "While you're enjoying yourself, set a course for Illium."

"We finally kidnapping Liara back?" the pilot teased, keying up the controls and carefully plotting their FTL jumps to the relays.

"I wish," Shepard replied, bitterness creeping into her cheerful tone, "I told Lawson we'd take care of a favor she needs done. Hopefully nothing more than a brief escort for her sister."

"Why do I get the feeling it won't be that easy?"

"Now you sound like Garrus!" she complained, crossing her arms indignantly and Joker laughed again.

"You can't blame us, Commander. Things have a tendency of exploding around you."

"Heard it already, thanks," she replied, remembering Rana, the asari scientist in Okeer's facility. "Just get my ship to Illium in one piece."

"Aye aye."

* * *

Shepard strode across the Nos Astra trading floor, dodging around the people gathered there for business, a shadow of a scowl on her face. She had to agree with Garrus about this place: peel back the pretty paper and it was worse than Omega. Furtive glances and the subtle passing of notes made Shepard feel like there was someone watching, someone pulling the strings… _Stop it with the conspiracy theories,_ her brain chided, _You know Liara's watching, it's her job. Just do what you came here to do and be done._ She glanced sidelong at Miranda who insisted on walking abreast; the subtle stab at her command hadn't escaped her notice, but she let it slide. What could she say? She'd woken up in a good mood. Of course, if Miranda was going to take advantage of that, then it could change very quickly.

Garrus stayed a step behind, scanning the crowds on instinct as they moved toward Eternity Lounge. Illium was too… Well, it was too clean on the outside, and too corrupt at its core. Not a good mix, in his eyes, but Shepard had agreed to the mission and he would be damned she came here alone. It hadn't been a question whether or not he'd be coming, really, more of a given. He had been on her six for every mission since Omega and he aimed to keep it that way. Or at least hoped she wouldn't change her mind. Absently, his eyes drifted to the back of the woman in question, taking the rare opportunity to observe her outside of battle. Side by side, he couldn't help but notice the difference in stride between Miranda and Shepard, how distinctly they each carried themselves. Miranda bounced and swayed to the point where he couldn't help but wonder how she didn't fall over; he had noticed more than one male crew member staring at her backside more than once, and assumed that this was some sort of attractive display to humans. But he couldn't see how being so…round was beneficial in battle – she was supposed to be a solider after all. Shepard, however… She radiated strength – even in the simple act of walking – but still had the grace he'd become so used to seeing on the battlefield. There was no unnecessary flourish to her gait, no strange rotation in her hips, yet he found her infinitely more appealing and…

_Focus! Mission!_ his brain screamed as they entered the lounge, turning his attention to anywhere but the Commander. That train of thought, he decided, needed to be derailed and forgotten before it got him into trouble. Although he had to admit, something about the smooth lines of her body, the hard muscle under soft skin and… _No!_ Shaking his head and dispelling the thought, he caught sight of the two women slipping into a side room. He followed quickly, pointedly looking anywhere but at his best friend.

The asari that awaited them pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning on and spoke directly to Miranda; Garrus could see Shepard's eyes flash at the second blow to her authority, but she remained silent.

"Ms. Lawson, I'm glad you made it. There's a complication."

_When isn't there? _Shepard thought ruefully, beginning to realize that her good mood wasn't meant to last. Miranda's cool exterior couldn't cover the worry and concern in her expression as she moved to the front of their party.

"What happened? Is Oriana alright?" Her eyes flew around as if she expected her sister to be there and Shepard's hand flexed toward her pistol instinctively. Complications meant trouble, and trouble meant firefights. Garrus shifted so he could see the lounge outside their small meeting room, watching for any signs of hostiles. The asari shook her head and raised one hand in a placating gesture.

"She's fine, but… You listed a man named Niket as a trusted source? He contacted me shortly before you arrived; he thinks your father has hired Eclipse mercs to run a sweep to find her." She paused and met Miranda's eyes squarely. "He believes they are going to be looking for you personally, and offered to escort the family to the terminal instead."

Shepard's brow furrowed and she cast a glance between her XO and the asari, Lanteia, trying to get a feel for what was going on. Who was this Niket character, and why hadn't Miranda mentioned him? Secrets were not something Shepard appreciated, especially not when they pertained to the mission. _She's just like the Illusive Man…_ _Why am I not surprised?_ She huffed out a breath and shared a look with Garrus. Neither of them liked this.

"You didn't mention anything about this Niket," Shepard interrupted, moving up alongside Miranda. The Cerberus operative had the decency to look just a little bit sheepish and Shepard counted that as a small victory. "Were you ever going to tell me, or was that just something for you to know and for me to maybe never find out?" There was an edge creeping into her voice as she spoke. "I'm here to help you, so I'm assuming you're being straight with me. If not, I can go and you can deal with this on your own, but I am not going to be jerked around and lied to."

"Niket is a friend," Miranda defended, "He and I go back a long way." For a moment, she looked like she was remembering something pleasant, but quickly turned her attention back to Shepard. For her part, Shepard said nothing more, merely giving Miranda a pointed look, and settling back against the doorframe beside Garrus. _If this is how she's going to play this, fine. But if she puts us in harm's way… _She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that Miranda seemed intent on running this herself. It didn't matter anyway; she was just there to make sure an innocent woman stayed safe.

"Do you want to bring in any more of your Illium contacts, Ms. Lawson?"

_Any more? Why am I here then? _Shepard scowled and grit her teeth against her pithy remark. _She's got all of these connections and she wants _me _to help her. Even though she knows I don't want to. Why?_

"No, you and Niket are the only ones I trust on this." Miranda glanced at Shepard, noting her sour expression abated slightly. Their eyes met for a moment before Shepard straightened and set her hands on her hips.

"She's your sister, Miranda. What do you want to do?" No matter how little she liked Miranda, the woman was trusting her over established contacts. _She must be desperate._ Miranda gave a slight nod and turned back to Lanteia.

"We'll follow Niket's suggestion. Shepard and I will take a car to draw their attention, hopefully draw them away from the family. Have Niket escort them to the terminal; give him access to the family's itinerary, just to be safe."

Lanteia nodded and slipped out, sidestepping Garrus on her way. The three watched her leave before Shepard spoke up, "So, the plan is for us to get shot down by Eclipse while your sister escapes?" She could see Garrus flinch instinctively from the corner of her eye and turned a cold stare at Miranda. She had been on Omega: she knew what they were up against.

"Eclipse will be under orders to take her alive. They won't risk anything that might kill us," Miranda assured them, but Shepard wasn't convinced.

"If you say so," she finally mumbled, leading the way back out of Eternity.

"How come we never go anywhere nice?" Garrus mused sarcastically from her left, giving her a half-hearted grin. She could see that the idea of dealing with Eclipse was not one he was looking forward to, and Shepard tried to look sympathetic.

"Because all the nice places have a dress code: no armor."

Garrus chuckled, risking a look at her as they headed toward the car port. The cybernetic scars on her face had mostly healed, only a few hairline marks remaining on her skin. Despite the orange glow and the veiled frustration in her eyes, she looked more like herself than she had in weeks. So many things he wanted to say struggled to reach his tongue, but he remained silent. This wasn't the time for that, not with Miranda following like a kicked puppy. They walked in silence until they reached the car they'd use for the distraction and Miranda finally faced Shepard.

"I appreciate this, Shepard. I know you weren't keen on coming, but I hope you see now why I wanted your help. I wasn't counting on Eclipse but…" A small smile graced the XO's face and she added, "But they weren't counting on you."

* * *

There was no conversation as they flew between Illium's skyscrapers, each person lost in their thoughts. Shepard stared out the window without seeing anything that whizzed by, trying to rein in her growing unease at the presence of mercenaries. This wasn't going to be a simple escort and quick drop off, and there were only three of them—one of which Shepard wasn't sure she could trust quite yet. Fantastic. Curiously, she glanced over her shoulder at her turian squad mate. Garrus was absently checking the safeties on his rifle, focus riveted on the firearm in his hands, and Shepard couldn't help a small smile. At least she had one person she trusted on her side. And if she had anything to say about it, nothing would happen to him. Not again…

"Damn it!" Miranda's exclamation caught both Shepard and Garrus's attention. "Eclipse gunships. They'll be dropping troops in the cargo areas."

"Gunships…" Shepard felt her blood chill and scanned Garrus's face for any sign of acknowledgement. He had tensed, sitting bolt upright in the small rear seat, and hadn't turned his gaze from the gunships as they flew past. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

Garrus's grip tightened on his rifle, the scars on his face and neck aching at the memory. He wasn't looking forward to the idea of facing another one, but if that was what Shepard needed him to do, then he would do it. He risked a glance at her and caught her gaze, managing a weak twitch of his mandibles.

"I'm fine, Shepard. Whatever we need to do," he assured her, though both of them knew his heart wasn't in it. She didn't look convinced, fixing him with a knowing stare, but didn't press, turning back to Miranda.

"Put us down in that cover behind them." Her voice was all business, but her brows knit together slightly, showing her unease. She didn't like landing in the middle of a mercenary force and no plan of attack or escape. She leaned a bit closer to the window, trying to get an idea of the transport hub's layout, but the buildings were too close together for her to see anything useful and she fell back against her seat with a huff.

"Let's hope they really do want to take us alive," Miranda murmured, banking the skycar hard to the right and diving toward the waiting mercenaries. A few rounds bounced off the body of the vehicle and Shepard could see what she assumed was the merc captain start barking orders, causing a momentary cease fire. Well, so far so good… Miranda banked the skycar again, sending Shepard's shoulder slamming into the side panel and she hissed in a breath through her teeth.

"What's wrong, Shepard? Not used to being on the receiving end of your kind of driving?" Garrus quipped as they slammed into the ground and skidded to a halt. The doors lifted open and Shepard gingerly stepped out, rolling her abused shoulder.

"Keep laughing, Vakarian. Just remember that payback's a bitch." The dull throb of pain had ebbed and she gave Miranda a small smirk. At least they had one thing in common: fearless driving. The same merc that had given the order to hold fire mumbled something to the man at his side and Shepard's gaze turned to him, one brow raised as he sauntered toward them and set his hands on his hips. Was he expecting a casual chat or something? Before she could say anything, Miranda strode forward, all confidence, and Shepard resisted the urge to grab her and pull her back. What was she doing?

"I trust since you're not firing, you know who I am," Miranda's voice rang out as she approached. Shepard's hand twitched toward her gun again and Garrus came up alongside her, rifle already in his hands.

"Yeah, they said you'd be in the car," the mercenary captain replied snidely, making Shepard scowl. It was always fucking mercs… Miranda crossed her arms and cocked out her hip, waiting for him to continue as Shepard and Garrus caught up with her. Shepard looked like a varren with its hackles up and Garrus didn't miss it. "You're the bitch that kidnapped our boss's little girl."

_Little girl? I thought they were twins._ Shepard stared hard at the back of Miranda's head, but if the woman knew, she ignored it.

"Kidnapped? I disagree." She took a menacing step forward and continued, "This doesn't involve you. I suggest you take your men and go."

"You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? Enyala's already moving in on the kid. And she knows about Niket. He won't be helping you."

Shepard's scowl deepened. Now there were way too many questions that needed answering. "What do you mean Niket won't be helping us?" Miranda had paled visibly at the mention of her friend and Shepard didn't like where this was going.

"Nothing. No one will get hurt as long as you don't do anything stupid," the merc replied, waving a hand dismissively, but Shepard was not convinced. If something had happened to Miranda's contact, then this was worse than they had anticipated and she didn't like it. Fighting through Eclipse was one thing, but trying to find and save a family at the same time was another matter entirely.

"Now why don't I believe you?" Shepard drawled, crossing her arms.

The mercenary ignored her. "You walk away now and the girl goes back to her father, and everybody's happy."

"Everybody but my sister, and me," Miranda finally said, having composed her expression. Shepard was beginning to notice that Miranda was just as bothered by the recent developments. Miranda's eyes darted around the cargo area and Shepard decided her other questions could wait.

"Look, this isn't going to end well for you," Shepard finally sighed, fixing the mercenary with a level stare, "so I suggest you leave while you have the chance. Otherwise…" She shrugged noncommittally and Garrus took his cue to line up his sights on the merc's skull.

"I'd take that offer," Garrus added, "It's more than most get." Shepard held in her smile, trying to maintain her appearance of unrepentant disdain, but inside she felt like a weight had been lifted. He knew her too well, she mused internally. It was almost as if two years hadn't passed.

"Captain Enyala ordered us to give you one chance to walk away," the merc replied and Shepard had to wonder if he was even listening to them, "But this whole time we've been talking, my men have been lining up shots." Miranda glanced around nervously, but Shepard didn't turn her gaze from the merc as he closed the distance between them, barely a foot from her face. She was not going to back down from this idiot. "When I say the word, we unleash hell on your squad. So I suggest you walk away nicely, unless you want this to get as ugly as your friend over there," he finished, nodding toward Garrus. Before he could even let out the bark of laughter that was bubbling on his lips, Shepard's gauntlet collided with his jaw with a resounding crack that sent him staggering. The mercenary at his side turned, gun fixed on Shepard, but fell with a gurgle as Miranda's own pistol discharged. Garrus blinked, having barely registered that the merc had drawn a gun. He could have shot Shepard…

"Works for me," Miranda snapped, expression cold. There was a flurry of movement as the mercs opened fire, forcing them to dive into cover.

Shepard dove behind the closest crate, slamming her back into it hard, and she paused to take a breath. Her heart was pounding and her hands shook slightly as she shoved a thermal clip into her pistol. Seeing that gun pointed at her head had sent her body into overdrive and she couldn't seem to regain control of her breathing. Since when did having a gun pointed at her scare her? _It wasn't the gun…_ She shook her head quickly and peered over the top of her cover, noting where the hail of bullets flying at them was coming from. Something touched her arm and she almost jumped out of her skin.

"Shepard," Garrus rumbled from beside her, "are you alright?" Damn him for being observant.

"Fine. Just fine." She popped up and fired three shots, letting out a sigh as she dropped back down. That was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. He didn't need to know that she had acted without thinking—and almost got a bullet in the head for it—just because someone insulted her best friend. With a grunt, she rose again and squeezed the trigger, letting out a whoop when the merc's head snapped back and the body fell. _Just keep it together. Shoot the mercs and it'll all be just fine._

Garrus watched her for a moment, trying to piece together what was going through her head, but her face was blank, hidden behind the mask she had perfected. One of these days, he would have a conversation with her where she wouldn't hide. With a huff, he focused his attention on the matter at hand, lining up the crosshairs on a particularly bold merc. The rifle jumped in his hands as the bullet flew across the space to its target and he quickly moved to sight another.

The all-too familiar hiss of a rocket firing caught Shepard's attention and she caught sight of the projectile as it flew straight towards their position. Panic hit her like a bolt of electricity and she grabbed Garrus by the cowl, pulling him down with a yell. They landed in a tangled heap as the rocket flew over their heads and blasted the containers behind them to bits.

"Are you crazy?!" Shepard hissed, fury painting her face and Garrus stared dumbly. That rocket could have killed him… She gave him a shake and he looked back to her face, noting that if looks could kill, this one would have. But beneath the anger was something else: fear, desperation… worry. "I need you in cover, Garrus," she growled, maneuvering herself out from under him, "I need you safe. Do you understand me?" The concern in her voice left nothing to be argued and he nodded. "Good. And if you ever do that again, I swear…" She let the threat trail off, voice breaking slightly and shook her head, pushing herself to her feet and striding out of cover, neatly putting a bullet through the last merc's throat.

Garrus stared after her, mandibles slack as he fell in behind her. Miranda was already rounding the corner toward the elevator to the cargo processing yard and they had to trot to catch up to her, but Garrus's mind was elsewhere. What did she mean by that? Was it just another part of her "nobody gets hurt" rule? It would make sense; she basically lived by that rule. But the look on her face, the crack in her voice… Why would she react like that if it were just a need to keep her team safe? He caught a glimpse of her face as she vaulted over a crate and threw the advancing mechs back with a pulse of biotics. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as she aimed down her pistol's iron sights. Three shots and another mech fell, its faceplate shattered. Spirits, she was gorgeous… Ruefully, he wondered if it wouldn't be wishful thinking to think that maybe—just maybe—there was something special about him that she would react so vehemently. _Don't push it, Vakarian,_ the rational part of his brain scolded, but a small part of him couldn't help but hope. If only…

"You coming or what, Garrus?" Shepard's voice cut through his thoughts and he started, mumbling something along the lines of an excuse as he caught up with the two biotics. Miranda didn't pay him any mind, tapping frantically at the elevator's call panel. Garrus pointedly avoided Shepard's gaze, mandibles twitching nervously as he tried to push away his distracting thoughts, but it was proving to be much harder than he'd anticipated. They stepped into the lift when the doors finally opened and he leaned back in a corner, trying to put all of the times she'd smiled at him, all of the times she'd laughed at something he said, out of his mind. He vaguely heard Miranda say something about patching in the merc's radio signal, but his attention could do nothing but wander aimlessly.

"Shepard… I think I owe you an explanation," Miranda started as the elevator began to move.

"You think?" Shepard snapped, sinking her weight into her hip. "You never mentioned this Niket, you antagonized a merc team without consulting me, and you lied to me about your sister," she snarled, ticking off points on her fingers, "Three strikes Lawson. I'd say an explanation is the least you owe me." Adrenaline and residual panic were coursing through her veins, making her tone sharper than she'd intended, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Seeing that rocket flying at Garrus again… A chill ran down her spine and she had to clench her teeth to keep from shivering. No one was taking away her best friend, her lifeline. Miranda wrung her hands absently and Shepard raised a brow, waiting for her answer.

"I didn't tell you about Niket because I didn't think it was necessary. That was my mistake and I apologize, but I needed someone to move the family for me and he was the only one I trusted. I couldn't ask you because… Shepard, I had no other options, just trust me."

"You really haven't given me much reason to trust you, Lawson, so no, I'll pass. But please, I really want to hear the rest of this."

Miranda sighed and turned away, pacing across the small space. "This is my sister we're talking about, Shepard. I didn't want to take any risks and I just want to make sure she's safe. I couldn't wait to reason with them, not while Oriana is in danger. And as for her age, Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father… He grew her when I was a teenager. She was meant to replace me, but I couldn't let him do to her what he had done to me. So I rescued her. She's almost a woman now."

"You should have told me we were saving a child!" Shepard roared, glowering at her XO and Miranda flinched.

"She's not a child! She'll be 19 this year," Miranda argued, but grew quiet. "It didn't seem relevant at the time."

"Well it was, so keep that in mind the next time you're going to keep details from me."

"Yes… Commander."

Shepard turned toward the doors and let out a heavy sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. _So much for that good mood._

"Do you think… Do you think they got to Niket?" If Shepard noticed the uncertainty—the weakness—in the Cerberus operative, she didn't point it out.

Shepard shrugged and tried to work a crick of out her neck. "I don't know. But we should hurry either way." She met Miranda's nervous gaze as the doors slid open. "Let's find your sister and get her out of here before anything else can happen." There was a beat of silence before Miranda nodded.

"Right… Right, let's go."

* * *

_It's always fucking mercs,_ Shepard mentally lamented again as they cut across the last cargo line. Enyala had diverted everyone she could spare to stop them and getting to her was proving to be no small task. Really, it was getting to be a bit ridiculous. _How much is this kid worth, anyway?_ Shepard ducked around the last corner, taking in the piles of unloaded crates and canisters with hazard symbols. Most of this stuff was probably illegal outside of Illium and Shepard had to resist the part of her that demanded it be destroyed. _Not the problem right now._

"Eclipse operatives are attempting to delay you by disabling the elevator," EDI informed them almost nonchalantly and Shepard resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I am overriding their lockdown."

"Got it." A shot flew past her face and Shepard swore. "Hostiles!" She saw Garrus take cover out of her corner of her eye, but Miranda kept advancing toward the mercenaries and Shepard scowled. "Lawson…" she growled out in warning, but the other woman didn't hear, almost in a trance as she moved further and further into enemy ranks. She would be surrounded soon, Shepard realized dismally and she leapt out of cover. "Miranda!" she shouted, unleashing a blast of biotics at a merc that had been carefully sneaking up behind her XO. The surprised yell from the soldier as he flew across the space and slammed into a wall drew Miranda out of her stupor and she dove for cover as a hail of bullets erupted. But they weren't aimed at her and Shepard swore up and down as her shields fell under the onslaught. Pain blossomed beside her eye and she dropped to her knees, feeling something warm and wet sliding down her cheek.

"Shepard!" Garrus's shout betrayed his concern and he made as if to go to her side, but she held up a hand, blinking sweat from her eyes.

"I'm fine," she called out with a wince, "Just a graze." Didn't mean it didn't hurt. _Miranda is always trying to get me to wear a helmet…_ Garrus eyed her reproachfully, but dutifully fired into the mass of mercs that had flooded out of the elevators and Shepard regripped her pistol as the wound on her temple pulsed angrily. Where were all of these guys coming from, anyway? They were practically an army. She rose into a crouch, barely above her cover and emptied her clip, firing in rapid succession before dropping back down to reload with a groan. Damn, her head hurt.

Garrus kept one eye on the enemy and one eye on Shepard, noting the contortions of her expression as she returned fire. He was thoroughly convinced she was crazy now, but this latest stunt… She didn't even like Miranda, she'd made that obvious. So why put herself in danger to save the Cerberus operative? It just didn't make sense. His mandibles pulled tight to his face as she wiped the blood from her cheek with a grimace. Two inches to the left and she would have been dead. Two inches. That fact hit him like a krogan charge and he found it hard to breathe as he fired off the last shot in the clip. The thought of Shepard dying again made his chest tighten, but the thought that it was almost because of Miranda's stupidity threw his feelings from fear and worry to anger. What the hell was Lawson thinking? What was Shepard thinking? She knew that he couldn't do this without her, she knew…

_No she doesn't. You're her friend, not her mate._

He cursed his traitorous thoughts, but couldn't deny the truth in it. She didn't know. But that didn't mean he would ignore her near-suicidal tendencies. Not again. What was she thinking? Was Lawson worth it? He kept turning that though over and over in his mind until the last merc fell and the team regrouped outside the elevator. His step was measured as he approached the two women, unaware of the ire about to be unleashed.

"You want to tell me what the _hell_ you were doing, Lawson?!" Shepard roared, fists shaking at her sides and Miranda stared at the floor, unable to meet Shepard's blazing gaze. Silence met Shepard's question and she grit her teeth, jaw flexing with restrained fury. "Well?!" Garrus couldn't help but feel sorry for Miranda; he didn't quite trust Shepard not to shoot her out of spite.

"I'm sorry, Shepard. I wasn't thinking," Miranda finally murmured.

"Damn right you weren't!" Shepard growled something unintelligible and fished a small packet of medi-gel from her hardsuit, slathering the goo on the side of her face without looking away from the focus of her ire. "You could have gotten yourself killed. You could have put us all in danger if we had to come save your ass. I got a bullet to the face for helping you." Miranda flinched and Shepard scowled. "My team works as such: a team. If you want to run off on your own and get yourself killed, do it on your own time, not mine. We can't have any fuck ups, am I understood?" She crossed her arms and waited, the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest showing just how riled up she was.

In the moment of silence that followed, Garrus couldn't help but feel that it was a bit hypocritical. Didn't he say the same thing to her on the Collector ship? How could she be an exception to her own rule? Did she really care so little for her own life?

"Yes, Commander," Miranda finally said quietly. It was obvious she was ashamed of her error, but as Shepard turned and stalked away; Garrus saw the shadow of surprise on the dark-haired woman's face and a glint of respect in her eye. She hadn't expected Shepard to care what happened to her and—in her gruff and unusually tactless way—Shepard had told her that she was a part of the team and that meant that Shepard was going to look out for her. They followed after Shepard, coming alongside her as she palmed the elevator control.

"Niket has reached the terminal. He'll switch the family over to our transport," Enyala's voice rang out, echoing in the empty room and all three of them visibly tensed.

"Niket..." Miranda said, disbelief saturating her voice, "But… that can't be right!" She raked her hands through her hair, trying to rein in her confusion and dread.

"We won't know until we find them. Come on," Shepard replied, slamming a fist against the control panel. The doors slid shut and the elevator lurched upwards.

"Maybe… Maybe the captain knows we're listening and is feeding us misinformation." Miranda sounded childishly hopeful and Shepard's expression showed her own doubt at the possibility. "Or maybe it's something else. Niket wouldn't betray me!" Her eyes flashed and she lashed out at the control panel. "Damn it, why can't this thing go any faster?!" Sparks flew from her omnitool and the elevator noticeably accelerated, leaving Shepard to wonder why the elevator back on the ship was so damn slow.

"What makes you so sure Niket wouldn't turn on you?" Shepard finally asked, not looking away from the doors. Her hands were clasped loosely behind her back, but the set of her shoulders betrayed the mix of anger and unease she felt. This was proving to be one giant mess.

"He could have turned on me when I ran away! I'm sure my father tried to buy him off." Miranda exclaimed, flying to her friend's defense and earning a sharp look from Shepard. "If he didn't do it then, why do it now?"

Tension crackled in the air between them like electricity, but neither said anything for a moment and Garrus withdrew from his thoughts to observe them both. Two dominant personalities in a small elevator… The fact that they were both still alive was a miracle.

That was true in more than one respect, he'd come to realize; Shepard, because she had already died once, and because she was constantly throwing herself in harm's way, and Miranda because she had a very bad habit of getting on Shepard's bad side. And yet Shepard still saved her… He had struggled with justifying Shepard's actions in his mind, but he could only come to one conclusion: she valued _everyone_ in her squad like they were part of her. It was nothing about him, or even Tali, or her friends. It was just who she was. He wasn't any different than Miranda. That thought hurt and he closed his eyes, trying to banish the sudden feeling of emptiness in his chest.

_You knew this was coming,_ his common sense chided him, _You knew it was too much to hope for._ Deep down, he knew it was true, and still he hated it. The sound of the doors opening drew his attention and he settled his rifle in his hands, falling in behind Shepard so she couldn't see the despondent look on his face. She would notice—she always noticed when something was wrong with her crew—and try to find out what was wrong. _How could I explain that _she's _what's wrong? That I need her?_ There was a hitch in his stride as he considered that. _I need her… _His heart ached, but he pushed it down, trying to force his brain back to the mission, back to the reality that they were only friends.

Shepard glanced back at Garrus as they moved toward the terminal, wondering what had him looking like a kid who found out Santa wasn't real, but didn't mention it, turning her attention to the voices she could hear ahead of them.

"… told that I could handle this my way. We're not traumatizing the family any more than we—"

The group came into view, Shepard and Garrus with weapons drawn, making the man and two asari they found turn to face them. The man looked visibly shocked and took a half step back.

"Miri?"

The asari in Eclipse armor slid off the crate she'd been seated on and readied her shotgun. "This should be fun." The coldness in her voice made Shepard scowl and turn her pistol to line up with Enyala's nose. Miranda's own pistol came up, though she aimed at her old friend and the other asari seemed to realize that trouble had come knocking, turning and trying to bolt away. Enyala sighed disdainfully and fired, sending the woman sprawling and Shepard's gaze darkened at the unprovoked violence.

"Niket. You sold me out." Miranda's voice cracked and it was becoming more and more clear how deeply this betrayal affected her.

"How do you want to handle this, Miranda?" Shepard asked, not turning her attention from the Eclipse captain. They were staring at each other—waiting, calculating—but neither moved.

"Why Niket? You were my friend! You helped me get away from my father!"

"Yes, because you wanted to leave! That was your choice! But if I'd known you had stolen a baby—"

"I didn't steal her, I rescued her!" Miranda all but screeched, stepping forward and shoving the barrel of her gun at him. He shied away, snapping his mouth shut and it was obvious that no one was comfortable with the situation.

"From a life of wealth and happiness?" Niket finally spoke up, "You weren't saving her. You were getting back at your father!"

"Look! We can solve this peacefully. No one else has to get hurt," Shepard said carefully, praying that for once, things would work out and they could all go home. "We'll have to relocate the family somewhere your father doesn't know about."

"Miranda's father has no information about Oriana…" Niket said quietly, defeat in his lowered gaze. The statement seemed to genuinely surprise Miranda, and he continued, "I knew you had spies in your father's systems, Miri, so I kept it private. I'm the only one who knows."

"Which means that you're the only loose end. I'm sorry Niket; this isn't how I wanted it to end. I'm going to miss you…"

Shepard reacted before her finger could tighten on the trigger, slapping her own pistol to her thigh and forcing the other woman's arm up in a blur of motion. Miranda glared daggers at her, but Shepard didn't back down, keeping her restraining hold on the gun.

"You don't want to do this," Shepard stated simply and Garrus risked a glance at the two women, knowing exactly what Shepard was talking about. The look he saw on Miranda's face was the same he'd turned on the Commander more than two years ago and the tone of Shepard's voice was the same as it had been then too.

_You'll regret it. Don't let it consume you. You're better than that._ She was always right, damn her. But Miranda didn't seem to agree, jerking her arm free and sneering.

"This has to end here, Shepard. My father will just keep trying to find Oriana."

"Maybe Niket can help, talk to your father," Shepard pressed, casting the man in question a dark look. If he disagreed, that look promised that she wouldn't stop Miranda again. "Just say that we got here first." Miranda followed Shepard's gaze and Niket fidgeted.

"I'll… I'll tell him that you hid her, that I don't know where she is," he finally said, cautiously meeting Miranda's eyes.

"I never want to see you again, Nik—"

Miranda's angry dismissal was cut off by another shotgun blast and Niket doubled over and fell, Enyala standing triumphantly behind him. Garrus swore under his breath, cursing his inattention and Shepard's hand flew to her hip.

"Done. Now, if you don't mind, I have a shipment to deliver," the asari drawled callously, drawing a yell of fury from Miranda. Biotics flashed around the dark-haired woman and enveloped Enyala, lifting her from the ground and holding her still.

"You'll die for that, bitch!" With another flash of biotics, the asari was thrown across the warehouse.

There was a moment of stillness before a shout could be heard across the space: "Take them out!"

Shepard ran forward and ducked behind cover, grimacing when her foot slipped in a streak of red blood. It never went smoothly… Why did it never go smoothly? She could hear the pounding of Eclipse troopers pouring into the room and sighed, watching Enyala fall back behind her foot soldiers. Fucking great. She heard bullets bounce off the crate she had hid behind and glanced around for her team, noting that they had both opted to hang back with her. _Well, we're finally learning._ Shepard pushed herself to her feet and dove forward, finding a new section of cover and firing at the mercs that were now in sight. Two fell with anguished cries, but the other ran out of her line of sight and she cursed, reloading. The sound of sniper rifle discharging behind her was comforting and she took a moment to look back at her friend. _Always watching my back_, she mused with a small smile. He slid smoothly from cover to cover, never exposed for very long and she turned her attention elsewhere, trying to catch a glimpse of Miranda. A flash of blue on the other side of the warehouse gave her away and Shepard craned her neck, trying to see how many mercs were left.

"Shepard!" The shout made her duck instinctively and something warm splattered the back of her neck. Her stomach churned and she peered carefully over the edge of her cover. A merc sprawled across the crate, eyes still wide but unseeing and she shuddered. Garrus came up beside her and fixed her with a hard stare. "Miranda's fine. Worry about yourself first."

"We've been through this, Garrus," she reminded him tightly, rising briefly to throw a blast of biotics at their remaining enemies. Enyala had retreated to relative safely, but they would get her before long.

"And yet you don't seem to be listening! Spirits, woman, I swear you—"

The sight of a canister leaking just over Garrus's shoulder made Shepard's eyes go wide and she was on her feet before he had finished his sentence. Her right hand grabbed his shoulder, forcing him down as she half stepped, half leapt around him while her left hand tried to throw up a barrier as the container exploded, bathing them in fire. Garrus yelled something as Shepard was thrown backward, landing awkwardly on her side. She didn't move for a moment and he felt fear crash over him like a tsunami, scrambling to her side without care for the mercs that still shot at them.

"Shepard? Shepard! Jane!" _Come on, get up! _He gripped her shoulder and turned her slightly so he could see her face. Soot smeared her cheeks and he could see where her hardsuit had been charred, but there weren't any wounds he could see. _I'll never forgive myself if that's the last thing I ever get to say to you._

She coughed violently, making him jump, and sat up slowly. Garrus didn't know whether to be relieved or scream at her for putting herself in danger again. A half-hearted smile pulled at her lip and she gingerly shifted so she was kneeling, reaching for her pistol.

"Sorry Garrus, I was a little busy saving your ass again. You were saying?" The sparkle in her eye was all he needed to see she was unharmed and laughed without meaning to.

"Crazy," he scolded, raising his rifle to scope in on the last merc on their side of the warehouse. With a bang, the bullet flew across the space and tore into the mercenary's upper chest, twisting his torso with the force as he fell. They both stood and started toward the rear door of the terminal, watching for any signs of Enyala.

"You know you love me," Shepard replied casually and Garrus's strides momentarily faltered; she wasn't one to use that word lightly, especially since her resurrection. _Stop it. You are just fooling yourself - digging yourself into a hole. She doesn't mean it like that_. Still, he had to actively hold his tongue, resisting the urge to agree, as his heart sped up. Inside, Shepard was cringing. The force of the blast had caused pain to blossom in her ribs and breathing too deeply caused a stab of pain. Her gaze blurred for a moment and she barely saw the blur of blue fly past her until Garrus dragged her behind cover. She slammed into his chest and winced, sucking in a breath through her teeth. "Ow."

"Not so indestructible, huh?" Garrus asked, one arm around her shoulders as he peered out of cover. Enyala was almost to the elevator, but Miranda had caught up to her before she could escape. Biotics flew between them, a few stray blasts rocketing away. Shepard strained to see but he tightened his hold on her shoulders. "Stop it. You're hurt—yes, I saw that, Shepard—and you've done enough." He took her pistol from her hands, ignoring her protests and emptied the clip into Enyala's barrier. The asari yelled something, turning to attack them, but Miranda took the opportunity to knock the asari back with her own biotics. Garrus reloaded the pistol with surprising dexterity and without letting Shepard go, earning a scowl from the smaller being, emptied the clip again. Shepard twisted to get free, but he paid her no mind, watching Enyala drop to one knee with a yell. Shepard finally wrenched free and reclaimed her pistol, slamming in a new thermal clip as she strode toward the asari.

"I don't need protecting, Garrus," she growled, but there was no force behind it. Really, she almost thought it was adorable. Almost. Banishing the thought, she leveled her pistol at the Eclipse captain and fired until the mechanism clicked plaintively. Miranda strode across the space and nudged the asari's body with her toe, visibly relaxing as Shepard and Garrus joined her.

"I… I can't believe Niket sold me out," Miranda said quietly, sadness evident in her voice, "I didn't even see it coming." She wrapped her arms around her middle and closed her eyes, obviously wrestling with what she was feeling.

Shepard watched her for a moment before tentatively touching her shoulder. "You couldn't have known. This isn't your fault."

"Why didn't you let me kill him? I could have handled that, but… Watching him get gunned down by that asari bitch…" Tears threatened to spill over and Shepard took pity on her for the first time.

"You still cared for him, even if he betrayed you. You would have regretted it for the rest of your life."

Garrus's head snapped up and he stared at the back of her neck, still splattered with blood. She knew… She had to; why else would she say that? _But it's true. It's always been true. You've known that since Saleon. She would have to be dense not to see what you've planned to do once you find Sidonis. _And Shepard, he knew, was not dense. The opposite, she was much too perceptive. She knew…

"You're right. And my father knew it." Miranda managed a small, bitter laugh. "He used it against me. I threw away everything my father ever gave me, except for Niket. A weakness on my part."

"You still have Oriana," Shepard pointed out, snapping her pistol back onto her hip with a wince. Getting back to the _Normandy_ was becoming more and more appealing.

"My father didn't give her to me, I rescued her," Miranda snapped, but her expression softened slightly. "But… yes. You're right. I still have something. Thank you, Shepard."

"You're welcome. Now come on, let's find your sister and get out of here," Shepard replied tiredly, waving for them to follow her into the elevator.

* * *

"There's no sign of Eclipse. We're in the clear," Miranda said, almost sounding surprised. Shepard nodded and Miranda's gaze swung to a family standing a few yards away. "There she is. She's safe… with her family." After a brief pause she added, "Come on, we should go."

Shepard stared at her, shock written on her face. "You're kidding me, right?" The dull ache in her ribs was beginning to make her testy and Garrus wondered if it would be safer to just carry Shepard back to the ship before she hurt someone. "We went to all this trouble to keep your sister safe and you don't even want to talk to her?!"

"It's not about what I want, it's about what's right for her!" Miranda replied defensively but Shepard didn't back down.

"Lawson, you're an idiot," she snapped. Before the other woman could interrupt, she continued, "I don't have memories of my family, let alone the chance to talk to them. If you don't go talk to her, I swear that if you don't already regret it, I will make sure you do." Miranda stared, looking like she was going to protest, but turned back to her sister's family. A thoughtful expression crossed her face and Shepard continued, "Would it really be so bad?"

"I… I guess not…"

* * *

**Ta da!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Whoo! Chapter 17! Seriously, how did this get this far? Magic, I say!**

**Greenyoda987 is amazing and wonderful and spectacular. Seriously, I should probably be more uncomfortable with the fact that you can read my mind but it's just too damn helpful.**

* * *

Shepard leaned her forehead against the glass of port observation, balancing a tumbler of liquor in her hand, and stared out at the stars flying by. Charging headlong into mercenary controlled facilities was nothing new, yet somehow the events on Illium felt different. Absently, she swirled the whiskey around the glass, watching the ice cubes clink together before looking back up to the window. They had saved Oriana—that had been the goal all along—and Miranda had actually talked to her sister; they were a family. Family… Shepard didn't have that. She took a sip and leaned back from the window, propping her elbow on her hip. Maybe that was it… Seeing someone reunite with their family while she had none, even a dysfunctional family like Lawson's, reminded her of what she could never have… What she could never remember. Her dream of Mindoir brushed insistently at her mind and she sighed. It was a good memory, but was it real? Was that truly her family? Or was her mind finally breaking? Being rebuilt, being brought back to life… That wasn't natural. How could she know that her body wasn't slowly rejecting its return to the land of the living?

Thinking about her resurrection brought her guilt rushing back; Ashley's face currently dominated her mind's eye and she grimaced. _That should be me. I should be dead, rotting on some god-forsaken world. I shouldn't be alive._ Her stomach clenched and she quickly downed another swig of alcohol as if to drown in it. _Why me?_ She couldn't get the question out of her head; even when she was awake, the images from her dreams always asked her. And she never had a satisfactory answer. _Just a mess of meat and tubes… Why me? Anyone else would have been easier to resurrect. Or just find someone else to fight this war, I already failed once._ She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek against the cool glass. _I don't deserve another chance. Not after all of the people who died under my orders. _Jenkins… Kirrahe… Ash… They were on her conscience; them, and the thousands who had died above the Citadel, defending the Council on her word. _The Alliance should have court marshaled me for war crimes against my own people, _she thought bitterly. Another gulp and the tumbler was empty, making her growl in the back of her throat. Pretty soon the bottle would be empty, and she wasn't sure how long it would be until she could get good Earth whiskey again. With a sigh, she trudged back to the bar and picked up the bottle, staring appreciatively at the classic design. Sometimes, she needed a reminder that there had been a time when humanity had been planet-bound, and things had been so much simpler. No geth, no Reapers…

* * *

Garrus glowered at the console in front of him. He had intended to do a bit of calibrating on the main gun to get his mind off of Illium—if he was being honest with himself, it was to avoid Shepard—but so far he had done more harm than good. The energy draw had dropped in efficiency by at least 3% and he couldn't stay focused long enough to isolate the problem code and fix it. With a growl, he locked the console and shoved himself away from it. There was nothing to be done with the damn thing until his thoughts stopped racing. The knot that had settled in his gut tightened and he forced his eyes shut. What was he thinking? _Shepard is your commanding officer; sure, she's your friend, but nothing more, _he kept telling himself, but that didn't stop his imagination from running wild. The worry and desperate concern for his safety that she kept showing gave him way too much hope. The way she leaned on him for support when her world had been crumbling made him too attached for their relationship to be innocent friendship. Yet every time he thought he knew what he was dealing with, she changed the rules. He was at a loss.

_I need a drink._

His strides through the mess hall were long and he managed to breeze through the deck without being waylaid, a fact that he was thankful for. His mind was full of Shepard and he wasn't sure that he could manage a cogent conversation at that point. It was bad enough that he could barely understand himself; someone else would be utterly baffled. His gaze was locked on the floor as he stormed into port observation, hell bent on drowning his mind in alcohol, so he almost didn't see the object of his traitorous thoughts standing behind the bar. Almost. He caught himself in the center of the room, staring blankly at her as she surveyed the bottle in her hand, misty-eyed and seemingly unaware of his entrance. He coughed awkwardly and tried to make a joke.

"You had to go and start without me?"

Shepard blinked and turned her attention to him and gave him a half-hearted smile. "You were taking too long," she replied, refilling her glass and stepping out from around the bar. She had seen him enter—if the doors hadn't slid open, she would have considered it bursting in, but it lost its effect without hinged doors—but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She felt utterly low and, though she knew it only made it worse, had decided to trap herself in a bottle. "I thought I was going to have to drink alone. So sad."

Garrus shrugged. He had hoped to be alone, hoped to divert his thoughts away from Shepard, yet here she was. He could see from the flush of her cheeks and the telltale shine in her eyes that she had been at this for a while. _Probably as long as you were mucking about with the guns. You still need to fix those or else—_ He shook his head and fished a bottle and glass from behind the bar, absently comparing her conservatively-colored drink to his own bright blue one. "I've always got your six Shepard, especially if it means storming the bar."

That earned him a small, genuine smile and they remained in silence for a time, sipping intermittently at drinks and looking anywhere but at each other.

Shepard found herself preoccupied with thoughts of the turian whose presence now seemed to dominate the room and absently wrapped her free arm across her midsection, cradling her opposite elbow. She had been pushing all of her energy into the mission—always the mission—and yet now, idle and pleasantly warm with drink, her brain zeroed in on her best friend. The feel of his talons in her hair, his arm around her shoulders, the vibration of his chest when he spoke… Her breath had caught in her throat more than once during the last mission; there seemed to be a sort of heat in his gaze whenever their eyes met, each time causing her heart to flutter in her chest. It felt so… _Snap out of it. This is Garrus, your best friend._ Her gaze flicked over to Garrus, covertly taking the moment to drink in the sight of him. He had filled out since their time on the SR-1, his shoulders were a bit broader and even under his armor she could imagine cords of muscle. The ease with which he'd lifted her from the floor of the hangar told her just how right she was and a blush rose in her cheeks; she hoped he would think it was from the liquor. Her eyes roamed up to his face—had he always been that tall?—and she felt a stab of guilt seeing the scarred and bandaged side of his face. _I should have been there._ The rational part of her mind knew that she couldn't have known he was Archangel—even the Illusive Man, for all his sources, hadn't known where Garrus had gone—but it couldn't drown out the feeling that she had let this happen to her best friend. The spark in his eye—the youthful, idealistic fire that had all but consumed him on more than one occasion—had been stamped out and she felt her chest ache. He had become hardened and cynical, and she couldn't help but wonder, _Would any of this have happened if I'd been there?_

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered, looking away. Her throat felt tight and she forced another swallow of whiskey down, grimacing as it burned its way to her core. Garrus looked up at her, confused, but she didn't see. Her eyes were glassy and he could see the beginnings of tears as she turned and paced across the room, away from him. She stopped at the window again, staring out. Cautiously, he moved to stand beside her.

"For starting without me?" he tried lamely, but neither of them laughed and he looked out at the stars. Was this what she had seen before she died? He felt hollow and wished he had been there. _I could have saved her. Then nothing would be wrong._

"For coming too late."

He looked back down at her and saw the glittering trails down her cheeks; the slight waver in her voice made him turn to face her. Her glass shook in her hand and she wouldn't—couldn't, it seemed—meet his eyes. Was that it? She blamed herself that he was injured? Was that why she was so scared of something happening to him? Because she felt guilty…? _What were you expecting Vakarian?_ Tentatively, he laid a hand on her shoulder, the coolness of her skin seeping through her shirt; he would be there for her, no matter what she needed.

"Shepard, it's not your fault."

"Isn't it? You're a part of my crew, Garrus, on and off the ship—this ship, the old ship, any ship. And you almost died on my watch. I can't…" Her voice broke and she sucked in a breath. "I can't have anyone else die because of me." Her grip on her glass tightened. "All I do is get people killed. I don't think I could live with myself if…."

He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she drained her glass. "It wouldn't have been your fault. I got myself into that mess; I let my feelings get in the way of my judgment." The image of his squad, tortured and made to suffer for his actions, caused his stomach to clench but he pressed on. "I went to that complex to die because I thought I deserved it. My team… My team trusted me to make a difference and I failed." Shepard looked up at him now and he felt that she needed to hear this, needed to know that she was not a monster. "The mercenary gangs you fought, they didn't hate me just because I dazzled all their women." Shepard snorted and he twitched a mandible in a brief grin. "We were disrupting their operations for weeks, costing them men and profits. They only united to take us down." A mournful keen took up in his chest and he closed his eyes. "I was betrayed by one of my own and my squad paid the price; they died for helping me, for following my orders." When he opened his eyes, Shepard had moved so they were barely a foot apart, studying his face. "I got them all killed because I trusted someone I shouldn't have. That complex was meant to be my grave, Shepard. I was ready to die because I didn't deserve to live while they didn't."

"You couldn't have known." She said the words but she couldn't help but feel the hypocrisy of her statement; here she was, trying to comfort her friend, but she couldn't make herself believe her own advice? He had just described the same guilt that ate at her every night and every day. He had given orders that had resulted in the deaths of his men – of his friends. _Maybe this is why we connect so well… we both know what it's like…_

He laughed mirthlessly and drained his own glass. Now that he was talking about it, he couldn't seem to stop the words from flowing out of his mouth like a cathartic verbal deluge. "Sure I could have. I should have known that the gangs weren't going to sit back and let me play the hero. The world doesn't work the same way as the story books, I know that, and yet I never thought that something like that could happen." His brows lowered and he slammed a fist against the window in anguish. "What did I expect? There was no way we were going to save Omega. And there was no way we could ever make it off of that world alive."

"You wanted to help people," Shepard said quietly, turning her empty glass over in her hands. Once again, her lips moved, forming words she didn't believe for herself; she tried to force some strength into her voice, hoping that her own guilt and anguish weren't apparent. "That's a good thing." Silence greeted her words.

"It goes both ways, Shepard," he finally sighed, pushing away from the window and back to the bar, sloshing more of the expensive brandy into the glass. As usual, he seemed to read her mind, knowing exactly what was running through her thoughts. "You have saved billions and will save billions more. The people who have died… They knew what was at stake. No one blames you for that, just like you don't blame me for my squad's deaths."

"It's not the same."

"Isn't it? Military training is clear: you may die, but you'll die fighting for something. Those soldiers lost over the Citadel knew that, and they knew how important stopping Sovereign was. You made the right call."

"And what about Ash? What about Kirrahe?" She snapped, turning away from him. Her guard was back up, but he could still see the pain that worked at her. "They trusted me to save them, and I failed. I had to let them die because I didn't do enough. What about the colonists the Collectors have taken and killed on my watch?" She threw her glass with such ferocity that Garrus started when it shattered against the door. "Cerberus should have left me dead. I don't deserve another life when all I do is end the lives of others."

"Don't say that," he said quietly, grabbing her arm and turning her around. "Please don't say that." She stared through his chest and he felt his heart break. "I spent two years lost without you. I had nothing left to live for because the person who finally showed me what it was like to make a difference was gone. And then you stormed back into my life in a hail of gunfire and biotics and I wanted to live for the first time since I'd heard the _Normandy_ had gone down." Something made her tremble and he wrapped his arms around her instinctively, setting his chin on top of her head. It occurred to him that if she hadn't been drinking already, she might have resisted being held—Shepard wasn't someone to be coddled and fussed over—but her weight was solid against his chest and he smiled internally. Whatever she was wrestling with, he would let her. He would be there if she wanted to tell him and if not, then he would merely be there until she didn't want him to be. He could only be glad that they were finally talking—openly and without restraint—even if it left them both raw.

Shepard leaned gratefully into Garrus's warm embrace and let out a shaky breath. The feel of his arms around her was a pleasant sensation and, though she knew she shouldn't, she enjoyed it through the faint haze of liquor. She had felt so isolated—so alone—since she'd been brought back to life, but right then—in her best friend's arms—she didn't. He was different; she had known it long ago, but she couldn't admit it to herself, let alone someone else. And here he thought that she had gone to find Archangel. How could she tell him that it hadn't been drive or heroism that drove her to "save" Archangel from Omega, but a hope that the station would be her final resting place too? The recklessness with which she had thrown herself at the mercenaries scared her now, but the emptiness that had caused it still tore at her heart. She had not cared what happened on Omega until it was Garrus Vakarian staring at her on that balcony, not Archangel. She pressed her cheek into the armor of his carapace and let out a heavy sigh.

"I went to Omega hoping it would kill me," she admitted quietly, feeling him stiffen, and looked up. "I kept hoping that a mercenary or Archangel would put a bullet in me and I could stop feeling like I didn't deserve to live. I wanted that station to swallow me up and let me go back to the nothingness of death." She gave a small, sad smile. "And then it was you up on that balcony. I thought it was a joke—that I had finally lost it and my mind was only showing me what I wanted to see, but there you were."

"Shepard…" The Commander mask was gone, and he could see pain that he was sure mirrored his own in her eyes. She looked so fragile and he felt the overwhelming need to protect her; from the Reapers, from the galaxy, from her pain.

"I had been so ready to die until that moment, but knowing you were alive… Knowing that you were there, I was glad Cerberus had resurrected me for the first time." She pushed back from him, but he kept his arms loosely around her, unwilling to let her go. "I almost lost you as soon as I found you again."

"You didn't lose me, you saved me," he replied, bumping his forehead against hers. He froze for a second, realizing what he had just done, but she simply smiled and automatically returned the gesture. _She doesn't know…_ Pulling back again, he dropped his arms back down to his sides, trying to find somewhere else to look, anywhere but at the woman whose scent now surrounded him like a narcotic fog.

Shepard looked away as well as the silence stretched on, rubbing her arms at the loss of heat, but didn't attempt to fill the empty space in the conversation.

"Is that why you always throw yourself in harm's way?" Garrus finally asked, reaching back and snatching the bottle from the bar without looking. The color of the liquor was far too cheery for the mood of the room so he downed it quickly. "Because you think you don't deserve to be alive?"

Shepard flinched and debated downing the rest of the whiskey. She had a pleasant buzz, but this conversation almost demanded that she be drunk. _No, you need to talk about this._ She took a deep breath and looked back up at him. "Yes, partially," she admitted. "But what good is getting a second chance if I don't make up for my mistakes?"

"Shepard, that…" His mandibles pulled tight to his face in a frown and he tried to find the words to say what he was thinking. "They aren't _your_ mistakes; they were bad situations, unavoidable tragedies. They may have happened under your command, but that doesn't make them _your fault_." He gestured with his hands vaguely, trying to get his point across but she just shook her head.

"Do you feel guilty about your squad, Garrus?"

"That's not—"

"Do you?"

"Of course," he finally sighed in defeat, knowing that she would use it to justify her recklessness.

She gave a small shrug. "It's the same thing. You couldn't have known, but you still feel guilty. I have to live with the fact that thousands died under my order, even if I didn't kill them myself." He looked ready to protest and she held up a hand. "I know what you're trying to say Garrus, but it's not going to change my mind." She sighed and looked toward the broken glass sparkling on the floor in front of the door. "I probably shouldn't have done that…"

Garrus followed her gaze and let out a quiet laugh. "Probably not." She had moved to clean up the pieces when he touched her shoulder. "Isn't that dangerous? I mean, your skin is fragile, can't you get hurt?"

"Garrus," she sighed and he could hear the slight exasperation in her voice, "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." She started picking up the larger pieces and laid them carefully on her palm. "A little broken glass won't—" She cursed and half-ran to the sink behind the bar, dropping the shards as she slammed the water on. Blood dripped from a long cut across her heel of her palm and she glared at it, leaning heavily on the edge of the counter. The combination of alcohol and sudden movement was starting to mess with her balance.

"You were saying?" he drawled, carefully cradling the remaining bits of broken glass in his safely gloved hands. She tried to give him a withering look, but the waver in her stance made him shake his head as he tossed the glass down the trash chute. "Let me see."

Shepard looked ready to refuse, but he was blocking her way out of the room and she grudgingly held out her hand. The gentleness with which he turned her hand, touching the edges of the cut lightly, surprised her, considering his size.

_You shouldn't be surprised by anything he does anymore, _her brain reminded her bluntly, _Not after the way he reacted on Omega. _He'd swept her up in his arms as soon as her Cerberus babysitters had left the room and it had been the first moment since she'd been resurrected that she actually felt alive. He'd worn her dog tags for two years while she had been dead; he'd just said himself he didn't know how to live without her. He didn't _want _to live without her. She frowned slightly, too preoccupied with her thoughts to feel the cool sensation of medi-gel on her hand. That wasn't a sentiment common between friends. That was… a lot more.

"There," Garrus said, a note of triumph painting his voice as he wiped away the excess gel, and Shepard snapped out of her thoughts. "Just remember this the next time you decide to see how alcohol and broken glass mix, ok?" He was teasing and she managed a weak smile.

"Right… sure." She studied his face for a moment, the buzz of alcohol beginning to wear off, and tried to edge around him. She'd been trying to avoid these moments—close together and alone—because her reactions were beginning to scare her. In the heat of battle, it was easy to blame an elevated heart rate on adrenaline, or a flush on running around in full armor. But on the ship… Her heart jumped as if on cue and she almost swore up and down as his visor blinked accusingly, wondering if she should just save face and run like a frightened animal. Mercifully, he stepped back to allow her by and she took her chance, but he caught her hand before she could escape entirely.

"Don't blame yourself," he said quietly, thumb running a small circle over the back of her hand. She stared at him for a moment, then hesitantly reached up and patted his shoulder in the most neutral way possible. Before he could stop her, she had turned and high-tailed it toward the elevator, leaving him alone in the silence. He gazed blankly after her as she had gone with a mix of confusion and regret. More than anything, he had wanted her to stay; he had seen the jump in her heart beat, but what did that mean?

_Don't get your hopes up._

He was so tired of his brain trying to tell him not to want her but… He did. There was nothing else to be said about it; he wanted her. Spirits, that was… He tried to take a breath and found his senses flooded with her scent, a heady mix of what he knew to be Shepard and alcohol that made him groan. Damn... He was in trouble.

* * *

Shepard stood, leaning against her locked door with no awareness of the time passing, and stared into the room without seeing. She had debated moving to her bed when she'd arrived, but every time she tried, her knees felt like they would buckle; and she had a feeling it wasn't entirely from the alcohol.

_Damn it! This is Garrus! Stop acting like some over-eager recruit fresh out of basic!_ But she couldn't seem to shake the feeling that some line had blurred over the past two years; like there was something else going on with them. Something more than friendship. Sure, a friend grieves when another friend dies, but they don't wear something of theirs for two years; they don't lose the will to live. That was something… well, something lovers did – or partners, or husbands and wives – but not friends. So why in the hell had Garrus worn her dog tags and all but thrown his life away? Had he wanted something more?

_But we've never been more than friends. Not on the original _Normandy _and not now. _But, if not, then why was he constantly trying to make sure she was safe, why was he so intent on making sure nothing happened to her? She couldn't remember anything like this before her death. Her death… Surely it couldn't be because he felt guilty she had died in the first place – he wasn't even there. _But maybe that's it. Maybe it's just that simple; he wasn't there to save you then and he doesn't want to have to wrestle with that guilt again._ But that wouldn't explain his concern over her happiness. Sure, maybe he didn't want her to die again, but if it was just survivors guilt why did he seem so anguished whenever she cried. Hell, she'd cried in his arms more times than she cared to admit so far. And he never pushed her away, never showed any discomfort at seeing his "fearless leader" fall apart. In fact, he seemed to almost be getting closer to her with each time; almost like he was glad she needed him, glad that she chose him to be open with. _But that's what friends do. They care for each other._

_But not Commanders and their subordinates. _Garrus always seemed to enjoy their time together, even if she was a fucking mess around him – when she was coming apart in his arms, he'd just held her, trying to comfort her – he seemed to want to spend that time with her. _Why are you so willing to open up to him anyway? A CO definitely doesn't let their gunnery officer see them naked and crying after attempting to beat up a memory and destroying their clothes… _ Well, she'd always felt closest to him. But why? Admittedly, she should have been more skeptical about bringing him onboard the ship in the very beginning; he was impulsive and reckless, but she still wanted him on board. Maybe because he reminded her a bit of herself, because she saw his potential. But they just understood each other; it was like they were on the same wavelength. He knew what she was thinking before she said it, knew what she needed before she asked. She trusted him implicitly, and she thought he felt the same. There were no secrets between them, no fake pretenses – just trust. There was no one else she had as much blind faith in.

_You're obviously just feeling some sort of misguided attraction to him; he's the only one that really knew you… back then, and that gives you some sense of normalcy. You died and you are just looking for something to make you feel alive, to make you feel real again. _But that wouldn't explain her body's reaction every time they were alone, or every time he caught her gaze, or… every time he touched her. She'd never been one for casual touching, especially between ranks and on duty; she gave exception to a reassuring pat on the back, or dragging someone behind cover, but a hug, an affectionate stroke? It muddied everything and made duty challenging; sure, she'd used the regs as an excuse to get Alenko out of her cabin before Ilos, but if she was being honest, she liked that protective barrier—it kept her from complicating an already challenging lifestyle. But, somehow, he'd broken down that barrier before she had even realized it, and she was finding that she liked it more and more. It had started out innocently enough – hugging a friend you thought was dead makes perfect sense – but recently… it felt like he was almost making excuses to touch her; and the excuses seemed to be coming more often. And why did she like it whenever he did? The breath by her ear, the pressure against her shoulders when he'd grabbed her on Illium… that felt much more intimate than a sniper making sure their commander wasn't injured, much more personal. He'd been so close, the feel of his body blocking almost everything else from her mind; she'd finally had to force her way out of his embrace because her body was responding to his closeness much more forcefully than she wanted to admit.

And why had she been so terrified when that canister had exploded? _Because he's the only thing keeping you grounded right now. _And it was true, damn him, but she wouldn't want it to be anyone else on the ship. No one could see through the mask she put on like he did. But if that was it, then why did she feel so downcast every time she tried to convince herself that he was just her friend. Each time she told herself _"This is Garrus, your best friend", _a part of her ached. This wasn't… friends don't feel that way about each other. Even when Ash had died, she hadn't felt this sad; guilty and depressed, maybe, but not cripplingly miserable. And Garrus was right in the other room! He wasn't even injured and yet the ache in her chest when she'd imagined the canister exploding behind him couldn't be quieted. The moments of dread waiting outside of the medical bay had been more intense than the despair she felt over the human lives lost over the Citadel. It felt so much more like losing a part of her—like losing a part of her family—than just another soldier.

_Well, that makes sense. He's the only thing close to family that you have. _But he wasn't just family; he was Garrus. The one person who could genuinely get her to laugh, the one person who could actually comfort her, the one person to make her admit something was wrong. The one person who made her want to live…

She shook her head finally forcing her feet to move, stumbling farther into her cabin towards her bed. She flopped face first into the sheets, desperately trying to stem the flow of her thoughts. She needed to stop thinking about him, especially in any capacity other than friend. This was Garrus. Her turian best friend. Not human, not her lover. So why did her heart start pounding in her chest, blood rushing through her body, when she remembered how well she'd fit in his arms in port observation, how perfectly her head felt nestled under his chin, how good his arms felt wrapped around her?

* * *

***innocent look* What?**

**Now for the bad part: It's the end of the semester, that means I have papers and shit (yeah, yeah, I'm so articulate). So, it might be a little while. But take heart! This is not the end!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Alright, I'm definitely turning into Ernest Hemingway... But yay for drunk-writing!**

**A warning, this chapter gets pretty non-canon (Sorry not sorry), so if you don't like that... Too bad.**

**Greenyoda987, you rock. For reals. All my love.**

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Mordin?" Shepard asked skeptically, leaning over his experiment-laden table. Her head gave a dull throb, but she pushed it out of her mind. Damn her habit of drinking too much when she was upset…

"Sure, yes. Absolutely certain, impossible." Well, that answered her next question. "However, seems to be most likely scenario. Memories began returning under strenuous conditions, however no sign of external stimuli. No physical reminders or visitation of locations. Presence of familiar crew members, however. Interesting, improbable, but not impossible. Have deduced that the presence of friends from past, before resurrection, has prompted the return of memories. Familiarity equated with familial relationships and therefore substituted."

"That sounds like science fiction, Mordin," Shepard replied, arching a brow. Really? Her friends were helping to bring her memories back? That was more than a little bit far-fetched.

"Would like to point out that we live in a space ship. Science fiction is reality in which we live." Mordin blinked and then smiled. "You should be happy. Progress in recollection of past is good news."

"Mordin, you just told me that my memory was triggered by a 'familiar presence'. I don't even know what that means, let alone who is causing it!" Shepard pushed back from the table and rubbed her temples. Explaining her dream had been one thing, but learning that it could very likely have been a genuine memory was… overwhelming, yes, but also frightening. What else would she remember in her sleep? The Blitz? The attack on Mindoir? She shuddered unconsciously, but looked back to the salarian scientist. "Thank you for looking in to this for me, but please keep it to yourself."

"Of course, Shepard. I am a doctor, and bound to the same confidentiality as any human professional," Mordin replied, sounding slightly insulted at the implication, but his smile remained. "Suggest spending as much time with past connections as possible; Vakarian most likely choice."

Shepard started and stammered something, a blush rising in her cheeks. "What about Joker or Dr. Chakwas? They know just as much about me as Garrus does."

"Vakarian known to have closer friendship, spend more time together on missions, have more in common. Recommended." If Mordin sensed her discomfort, he gave no sign.

"Of course…" She gave a quick parting nod and tried to walk as calmly as she could out of the Tech Labs. Fucking damn it. She leaned over her terminal and sighed, eyes sliding closed and letting her head hang. Every brain cell she had screamed that it was a bad idea, that she need to separate herself from her turian gunnery officer before she overstepped every boundary that ever existed—she'd already gone far enough last night. But…her heart whispered that she was allowed to be happy, and was it really so wrong if Garrus made her happy?

_Yes,_ she thought bitterly, _yes it is. I'm his Commander. It's… wrong_. There's a reason why there are regulation about fraternization—especially between ranks; a subordinate wouldn't necessarily be able to say "no" to a higher ranked official. And even though this wasn't an Alliance ship… No, she couldn't complicate things. She couldn't put Garrus in that position. Besides, how would she ever be able to make sure he wasn't just following orders from his CO? She'd never be able to tell… _Even if I could tell, I'm not…turian_. That hurt even more than the rank separating them; rank could be forgotten in a moment of bliss, but a difference in species? No, she was too… soft, too squishy. He was probably attracted to sharp lines and hard plates and a pretty fringe_. I'm nothing like what he wants_. She scowled and absently ran a hand through her hair. _Besides, when did Garrus's love life start mattering to you? When did you start worrying about what he thought of you? He's just your friend...right?_

The traitorous part of her mind took that question and ran with it. _Well, since he's just your friend, what's so wrong with spending more time with him? If it will help your memory, what's so wrong with that? If you're just friends and he isn't attracted to you, then he's not going to misread anything – because there is nothing to misread. Right?_

Her heart slumped. She knew that wasn't entirely true; last night she had felt so at peace in his arms, so safe and secure. Jane Shepard was never one to let her guard down like that, especially with her crew; but last night… he'd seen her vulnerable once again. _Why do you keep opening yourself up to him?_ She closed her eyes once again, sighing. She trusted Garrus. He would never judge her weaknesses—never hurt her; she knew that he would sooner jump in front of a bullet than see her get hit. And that type of trust wasn't something that was common. Her thoughts drifted back to what he'd said last night, her hopeful feelings continuing to betray reason.

_I had nothing left to live for because the person who finally showed me what it was like to make a difference was gone._

_Friends don't say that to friends_, she repeated to herself; no matter how much she tried to see reason, she couldn't shake the hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt something more.

She shook her head, groaning; Kelly looked over at her, tilting her head to the side a bit before going back to her own terminal. _Why are you so focused on this anyway? You are friends. That's all. Stop trying to read more into everything he does. He doesn't want you; you know Garrus – if he wants something, he always tells you and then goes after it. Always has. If he wanted you, you would know by now._ Her heart dropped a little more, as she realized the truth of that. He didn't want her. He couldn't want her. She was just his CO and a good friend. _And again_, the rational part of her brain reiterated, _there is nothing wrong with being his friend. Why can't you just be happy he's still in your life at all—no matter what capacity? _

But that didn't seem to be enough. Each time she thought about how they were friends, her stomach twisted and she felt like she'd had the wind knocked out of her; she shouldn't be feeling like this. She shouldn't be upset that he hadn't expressed interest in her. But… she wanted more. She wanted to be more than his friend. She wanted… him.

_Shit. I want him. And…I can't have him._ Her stomach flipped and her eyes sprung open, widening as she felt a lump rise in her throat. Fuck. That was it. She wanted him. And he would never want her. She swallowed heavily, trying to dislodge the tightness of her throat, but she straightened, pushing her shoulders back in an effort to force some confidence into her posture. Kelly looked over at her again, curiously, but Shepard ignored her questioning gaze, eyes locked on the air ahead. Damn it, she was pining after her best friend who wasn't human and wasn't attracted to her in any capacity. She was just his friend.

_You've done this to yourself_, she thought sadly, opening up her messages, _You have no one else to blame_. It didn't assuage the heaviness she felt in her heart, but it was true. Damn it, it was true. She slammed the keyboard a bit harder than necessary, earning a few inquisitive stares, but the message blinked open nonetheless. Her brow rose as her eyes slid over the text. She'd asked EDI to scan Zanethu when they'd returned from Illium on a hunch, but she hadn't expected a distress signal.

_Alliance sources request that all ships keep watch for signs of the missing freighter MSV Estevanico, lost one year ago in this sector. Any data recovered that sheds light on the Estevanico's fate will be rewarded._

_Surface scans indicate the presence of a large shipwreck. Signature bears similarities of the Alliance merchant freighter MSV Estevanico. Structural integrity is critical. Life support is damaged but capable of sustaining a skeleton crew. Recommend extreme caution._

Had they found it? "EDI," she said, instinctively looking up toward the ceiling, "Is this distress signal coming from the missing freighter?"

"I have isolated the signal and determined that it has originated from the MSV Estevanico. I recommend caution in retrieving data from its mainframe. The wreck is not stable and unsuitable for a large ground team." There was a pause before EDI added, "It may be best if you go alone, Commander."

Alone… On a derelict ship that had been missing for a year? Great… "Right. Thanks, EDI."

"Logging you out, Commander."

Perfect. Because she definitely wanted to go climbing around on a dangerous wreck. Yup. Totally. She pushed back from her terminal and started toward the elevator, letting out a heavy sigh. _Always one more thing… may as well get it over with now._ She leaned back against the doors after they'd closed and tried to breathe deeply. She had never been without her team—it seemed like a weird thing to even consider—but that didn't mean she couldn't handle a solo mission. Right? And on top of the danger, she wasn't entirely sure she could stay focused with Garrus on her six—she wasn't about to take anyone else. Yeah, this mission was probably best done alone. The doors slid open again and she backed out, heading toward the hangar bay, but her omnitool beeped plaintively and she brought up the vid screen.

"Yes?"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Garrus. She should have known he wouldn't want her to go alone; after their conversation the night before, she should have expected nothing less. "Going down to the Estevanico to recover its manifest and mainframe data," she replied, trying to keep her voice neutral. She didn't even bother asking how he knew where she was going; she had more pressing concerns. She stepped into the hangar and headed toward her equipment locker. Her armor had been buffed and cleaned, so all signs of the explosion on Illium were gone. It was a minor thing, but she was glad for it; she didn't want to be thinking about what had driven her to put herself in danger like that. Carefully holding her omnitool so only her face was visible, she began stripping out of her uniform.

"I'm going with you."

"No, Garrus, you're not." She was trying to be patient, she was, but she wasn't going to let him question her about this. Uniform gone, she stepped into her undersuit, awkwardly pulling it up over her shoulders while trying not to move the camera frame. "The Estevanico is not safely landed. If there's more than one of us down there, it could fall and someone could get hurt. I'm going alone and that's final."

"Shepard…" She could hear the growl in his throat and scowled, glaring at him through the vid screen.

"I am in charge here. And I will not have anyone else going down onto that death trap, do you understand me?" She waited until he nodded the affirmative, but he wasn't looking at her anymore and she sighed. "Garrus, just trust me. I'll be in and out before you know it. And then you can come with me wherever we go next." She didn't want to be angry with him—really, she didn't—but no matter what they had said the night before, she would still put herself in danger long before her crew. She stepped into her boots, strapping on her greaves with one hand.

"Fine. But you're staying on the comms if you're going down alone." His eyes flashed back to her and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes Dad," she sulked, sticking her tongue out at him, and he chuckled in spite of himself. She grinned. "Don't worry so much, I'll be fine. Now let me get my armor on, the hangar's too cold." Without waiting, she cut the connection and quickly snapped on the rest of her armor, pushing down the warmth in her stomach. _He cares…_

_Stop it, it's just because you're his CO and his friend. That's all. _Her shoulder slumped slightly, but she shook it off, snapping her weapons into their respective holsters. There was nothing else to it. Nothing at all. So why did that thought make her feel terrible? She shook her head and headed toward the shuttle, bypassing the pilot—what was his name? Johnson? Jackson?—and falling onto one of the benches.

"Take me down."

* * *

Garrus stared at his omnitool for a moment. The hangar was cold? That meant she was… _No, don't think about it!_ He shook his head and turned back to his console in the battery, trying to undo the damage he'd done the day before. But the thought of Shepard changing into armor in the hangar wouldn't leave his mind; the delicate curve of her waist—so unlike what he was used to but still so… appealing—the flush of her skin… Oh, he could never forget seeing her so exposed as when he had held her through her tears. _No, no stop thinking about it. She's human; you're not even remotely her type._

He shook his head and opened the comm link to his omnitool. "Shepard? You there?" _Of course she's there, say something dumber, why don't you._ He mentally kicked himself, but waited for her answer.

"Yup. Loud and clear, Garrus." Her voice distorted slightly and he could hear the doors of the shuttle slide open. When she spoke again, it was to someone off screen. "Wait for my signal for pickup, but stay close. I don't like the look of this ship."

Garrus silently wished he was at least on the shuttle, wondering just what she was getting herself into. _If she gets hurt because I'm not there…_

Shepard hopped off the shuttle, exhaling loudly as her boots made contact with the surface of the freighter. The structure groaned ominously and she froze, knees bent slightly as the deck shifted under her weight. Oh, this was going to be fun. Carefully, she unholstered her pistol and slid one foot forward. When there was no response from the wreck, she moved a bit further, scanning the crumbling wreckage.

"Shepard, I don't think—"

"I know, Garrus," she cut him off, taking a few more tentative steps. The deck beneath her boots creaked, but she continued. "I don't like this any more than—" She took another step and the metal paneling that made up the floor fell away, forcing her to jump back. She landed hard on her ass and scrambled backward as a few more panels fell with a crash. "Shit fucking goddamn fuck!"

"Shepard!"

"I'm fine! I'm fine…" she panted, licking her suddenly dry lips. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was doing somersaults; ok, so she wasn't fine. Cautiously, she got to her feet and inched toward the edge, staring down at the decks below where the paneling at fallen. Well then, she wouldn't be going that way.

"Shepard, get out of there. You are not—"

"Garrus, shut up," she snapped, backing up and casting a look around. Her patience was paper-thin and the ominous creaking of the wreck was beginning to grate on her nerves. A narrow beam caught her eye and she immediately resented the possibility that it would be her only way to proceed. "I have to get this data, so stop trying to convince me to give up and come back to the ship. Now, I'm going to get to that mainframe, so you can either be quiet, or you can distract me from this ridiculous deathtrap." She shuffled out onto the narrow beam and cursed every deity she could think of that she wasn't more coordinated. Her arms were held out for balance as she sidled along the beam. She could hear Garrus's agitated pacing over the comm and sighed. "Got any stories?" she finally asked, turning and beginning her descent down the next beam.

Garrus ground his teeth and leaned over his console, talons flexing against the metal. "Like what?" came his tight reply.

"I dunno. What's it like on a turian ship?" She let out a grateful breath when she reached a platform, but there was no apparent exit. _Oh for the love of…_ Her eyes searched for some clue as to how she was supposed to get down to the glowing mainframe, but nothing was showing itself.

He chuckled in spite of himself. "Really, Shepard? Alright… It's weird being on a human ship. You don't prepare the way turian crews do." There was a pause and he laughed. "Well, for high-risk operations, I mean. That's all we ever seem to get up to when you're involved."

She hummed in acknowledgement and spotted a dangling panel. Perfect. She fired two shots quickly and the metal sheet fell, creating a ramp and she grinned. "Hey, we were pretty prepared for Ilos," she countered, sliding down to the next platform with a grunt.

"If you say so. I distinctly remember a lot of panic and near-death experiences."

She rolled her eyes, scampering over another beam quickly before pausing to get her bearings. Damn, this thing was a maze. "Alright smart-ass. Then how do turian crews prepare for high-risk missions?" The ship creaked and swayed and she dropped to one knee, waiting for the nauseating motion to stop.

"Are you sure you're—"

"Fine. Really, I'm fine. So?" she cut in quickly, hoping not to think too long on the uncertainty gnawing at her gut. The less she thought about the precarious balance keeping the ship from falling, the less fodder her imagination had for all of the terrible ways this mission could end.

There was a pause and she knew—in her gut, she was certain—that he was considering bringing a shuttle down there himself, but he finally replied, "With violence, usually. Your Alliance has much stricter personal restrictions, but turian ships are run tighter—operationally speaking. A lot more discipline."

"Hey, be careful what you say about the Alliance," she warned, climbing over some fallen rubble, "Those are my people. And we carry guns." She could hear him scoff and shook her head. At least they were joking like normal.

Garrus scoffed and shook his head. "Like I said, turian crews have a lot more discipline. Our commanders run us tight, but they know we need to blow off steam. It's a… feature of our anatomy. Stress stores up in our bodies and can make us… agitated. A turian ship would have training room for exercise, combat sims, or even full-contact sparring. Anything to let people work off stress." He smiled slightly, remembering his time in the military. It may have sucked at the time, but he wouldn't have traded the experience.

"Whoa whoa whoa," she said quickly, hoisting herself up over the last of the fallen rubble, "You mean turian ships have crewmen _fighting each other_ before a mission?" The most powerful military in the galaxy, and they were fighting each other? How in the hell did that work?

"It's supervised," Garrus replied casually and she could almost hear the nonchalant shrug in his voice, "Nobody is going to risk injury before a critical mission, but it's a good way to settle grudges amicably." Garrus paused as an idea occurred to him. Could he? Should he? Probably not… this was his human Commander he was yearning for, but… _It can't hurt anything…_ "I remember right before one mission, we were about to hit a batarian pirate squad. Very risky. This recon scout and I had been at each other's throats. Nerves mostly, but she suggested we settle it in the ring."

Shepard snorted, but froze as the ship groaned and popped, rocking threateningly. She felt the blood drain from her face, but tried to keep her voice neutral. "I assume you took her down gently?"

Garrus considered commenting on the sounds he could hear in the background, but decided against it. There was an edge in her voice and he could tell that she was nervous. _Keep distracting her. That's what she needs. _"Actually, she and I were the top-ranked hand-to-hand specialists on the ship." He took a quick breath and pressed on, "I had reach, but she had flexibility."

"Flexibility, huh?" Shepard murmured, obviously preoccupied as she moved deeper into the barren ship. A breeze whistled through the skeletal frame and she tensed. _This data better be worth it._

"Mhmm. It was brutal. After nine rounds, they called it a draw. A lot of people were unhappy with the decision; most of them had wagers on the match." He paused, listening as she forced her breathing to slow, her footsteps echoing over the comm. There was another groan of metal and his stomach lurched, but the sound of her boots on the metal decks made him let out the breath he'd held. "We, uh, ended up holding a tiebreaker in her quarters. I had reach, but she had flexibility…" He coughed as that statement trailed off and added, "More than one way to work off stress, I guess." There was an oppressive silence before he heard her let out a breathy laugh and his heart jumped.

Shepard shook her head. Was he really telling her this story? What was he getting at? _Is he suggesting that we…? _She desperately wanted to believe it, but the rational—and more-recently hated—part of her brain said no, no he was just telling stories. That's what she'd asked for, after all. Still… She coughed and tried to focus on the panels beneath her boots as she moved deeper into the ship, rather than thinking about what she was about to say. "Well, it sounds like you're carrying some tension there, Garrus."

"If I am, it's all your fault," he quipped and she guffawed.

"Well, then maybe I could help you get rid of it." The sultriness of her voice surprised her, but she said nothing else, biting her lip as she waited for what he would say next. _Did I really just do that? Oh shit, I just did that. Shepard, what the hell were you thinking?! This is your best friend. This is Garrus! Have you lost your fucking—_The stairs she'd been descending crumbled and she fell with a yell. The ship groaned and she froze, waiting on her hands and knees as the ship shook and rocked. Her eyes darted around, seeing her pistol slide precariously along the deck, and she dove toward it, sliding across the floor on her stomach. The ship pitched as her fingers closed around the barrel and she felt her heart pound. _This is it. I'm going to die on a derelict ship while it falls off a cliff. Son of a bitch!_

"Shepard! What's going on?!"

She ground her teeth and the ship groaned again, but returned to its fragile equilibrium. _Thank god…_ "Everything's fine. Just a minor hiccup," she replied, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. _I didn't just almost die, but if that distracted you from my entirely tactless proposition, then great._ She slowly stood and scouted out her next move. More stairs. _Great…_

Garrus carefully unclenched his talons from the edge of the console, thankful he hadn't dented it. This mission was beginning to damage his calm. "Shepard…"

"I'm fine, I promise."

"Fine. So you want to help me get rid of some stress?" Any other topic to distract him from the sounds that wreck was making… Wait, what? She did say that, right? _She wants to blow off some steam? Together? No, no she can't mean it like that… right? _"I didn't realize you wanted to spar, Shepard." He was giving her an out—an out he desperately hoped she wouldn't take—and waited impatiently for her answer. More than anything, he wanted to just accept her offer and press her up against the wall of the elevator as soon as she got back, showing her just how much he needed her to stay safe… _She hasn't even said yes yet!_

Maybe it was the adrenaline in her blood, or maybe it was the very real possibility that this damn wreck could end up being the death of her, but Shepard didn't know why she said what she said next, "I was thinking we could skip straight to the tie breaker." She mentally slapped herself, but she was committed now. _Oh, fuck it._ "We could test your reach and my… flexibility." She hopped up onto the catwalk that led to the mainframe and felt her shoulders relax. _Almost done._

Garrus stared blankly at the console, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to think of an answer. She was serious… Wasn't she? He desperately hoped she was but… _There's no way…_ "Oh, I uh…. Well, I guess you must have a weakness for men with scars. Never pegged you for the type but… Yeah… I'll hold you to that, Shepard." He knew he wouldn't.

Shepard shook her head. _I am thoroughly fucked. This isn't happening. There's no fucking way… _ "And I'll hold _you_ to it, Garrus," she replied, the calmness of her tone betraying none of the inner turmoil she felt. She knew she wouldn't—hell, she'd probably apologize and blame the slip up on adrenaline and pretend it never happened—but deep down, she wondered… _Was he serious? Would he really want to? With me?_ She banished the thoughts and pulled up her omnitool to scan the mainframe, watching the data scroll by without actually seeing it. A loud crack and groan like thunder drew her attention and she spun, watching beams and supports begin to fall, and the wreck lurched threateningly. "Shepard to shuttle, I need immediate evac, repeat! I need immediate evac!" The ship shook and heaved, the sound of grating metal filling the air as she searched the sky for her way out. Another crack and she stumbled toward the edge of the platform. Where was that damn shuttle?!

"Shuttle to Shepard, we got you."

She looked up and almost laughed her relief, running up the nearby incline and leaping from the edge onto the shuttle through the open doors. "Get us out of—"

The wreck gave one last creak of protest before sliding and the shuttle banked hard to avoid being dragged down with it. Shepard grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling and watched the frame of the ship crash against the cliff side before sliding off and dropping into the chasm. _Way too close…_

"Shepard to _Normandy_, we are en route. Prepare for extraction."

* * *

Shepard shoved the pieces of her armor back into her locker, hands shaking. That had been… way too close. She slammed the metal door and leaned back against it, sliding down to a sitting position. Ok, so death actually did scare her. _Is it death, or the possibility of missing… something._ She shook her head and wrapped her arms loosely around her knees. Damn it. It was simpler when she just wanted to get this all over with—when it was just a matter of finishing her business with Cerberus—but now… Now she had a reason to stay. Fuck.

_He gives you a reason to live. Is that so bad?_

Yes. Yes it was. She buried her face in her knees and sighed. Why had she even responded to his story about the recon scout? It couldn't work. She was his commander and… And she wasn't turian. He couldn't have possibly meant it like that…

_He responded didn't he? _

Well, yeah… _How does a person say "no" to their CO? What else was he supposed to say?_ A bitter taste settled on her tongue and her fingers reflexively clenched into fists. Damn it. She wanted nothing more than for this to be simple; she just wanted _him_.

_But he doesn't want me._ No, he cared. But that was because they were friends, nothing more. Never anything more… Another ragged sigh escaped her and she leaned her head back against the front of her locker, eyes closed. _You always make trouble for yourself, Shepard. Always wanting what you can't have…_ She smiled ruefully; a normal life, an easy mission, unconditional affection… They were always out of her reach.

"Commander." EDI's voice made her jump to her feet, looking around.

"Yes, EDI?"

"I was asked to ensure that you had returned safely. Some of the crew were… concerned when you did not return to the CIC immediately."

Shepard sighed and headed toward the elevator. "I'm on my way EDI…" _Always one more thing…_

* * *

Garrus paced across the battery. He'd heard Shepard call for evac, heard the Estevanico fall, and in that moment, he had never been so… scared. Hell, he'd been terrified, and that worried him. _She's not going to stop putting herself in danger. You know that._ But it didn't stop his mind from wildly speculating about what could have happened. The shuttle could have come too late, she could have been stuck on the wreck and fallen down with it, the wreck could have hit the shuttle… He shook his head and growled, locking his hands behind his back as he paced. Damn her sense of duty. A nagging thought at the back of his mind reminded him that she had offered to blow off steam together, but that seemed so inconsequential in the face of her near-death. _And besides, that's just one more reason she needs to stay alive—one more reason you need her to stay alive._ He tried to take a deep breath, but the tightness in his chest wouldn't let him.

Had she been serious? Did she really mean it? He knew he had, but… There was no way of knowing, not with Shepard. She was… Spirits, she was a mystery. Every time he thought he had figured her out, she surprised him with some sly comment or a playful look. And now she said she wanted to help ease his tension… His mind started to wander back to the hangar bay and how she would—_Focus! Think with something besides your libido. She almost died!_ Again… Another growl escaped him and he stopped pacing, leaving heavily on the console. When had this all become so complicated?

His omnitool pinged and he started, staring at it like he had never seen it before, his thoughts still on Shepard. A message flagged as urgent blinked up at him and he opened it cautiously. Who had his omnitool address? His eyes skimmed over the text, brows rising slightly before furrowing, anger sparking in his eyes. _Got him._

He stormed out of the battery, intent on finding Shepard. He needed her help with this; she understood what it felt like. And if anyone was going to help him take down that treacherous snake, he wanted it to be Shepard.

_I've finally got you, Sidonis._

* * *

**I can't really think of anything I want to say so... Yeah. Lemme know what you think!**


	19. Chapter 19

**I am so sorry for the delay in updating this! Finals are evil. Pure, unadulterated evil. Seriously, I had this chapter planned out for almost a week before I finally got started and it just... Blegh. I wanted this chapter to be absolutely perfect, so it took a lot of tweaking.**

**Big huge mushy thank yous to Greenyoda987 for helping me do major rewrites and being generally the greatest in all the land. Seriously, she deserves so much credit.**

* * *

"Commander, Officer Vakarian—"

Shepard sat up quickly, eyes flying around the room. _Whowhatwhere—Oh._ She blinked the sleep—however brief—from her eyes, peeling off a datapad from where it had stuck to her forehead, and looked toward the door. She could hear the sound of heavy footfalls—made by someone obviously larger than herself and in a hurry—and her door whooshed open before EDI had finished her statement, admitting a frantic-looking Garrus. "He's already here, EDI. Thank you." If he noticed that she'd just woken up, he gave no sign.

"Logging you out, Shepard."

Shepard watched as Garrus paused just inside the door; she stood slowly, stretching her arms above her head and cracking her back. He was watching her, his eyes shifting from side to side rapidly while his mandibles twitched erratically; he seemed to be warring with himself. She sighed. She had never meant to make him uncomfortable; even now, she still didn't really know what made her say all that about… reach and flexibility. She cringed inwardly; no matter how much her heart tried to convince her that Garrus had been serious when he had said he'd hold her to it, she really doubted it was anything more than an attempt to keep her focused on something other than the mission. He was just doing exactly what she had asked him to do: distract her. And—as much as she wanted to still blame adrenaline—she couldn't seem to stop herself. The thought that he might want to…ease tension with her was…_ Too good to be true. This is Garrus. He's your best friend—you don't need to mess that up by making things awkward for him. Fix this._ She sighed again, and decided to save him from any additional potential awkwardness by speaking first. Besides, she was pretty sure she knew what he was here about.

"Look, Garrus, if this is about the wreck, I don't—"

"Shepard, I need your help," he blurted out, taking a step toward her. Well, that was not what she expected. Her brow furrowed; there was an urgency in his stare that shocked her. She had never seen him like this before; he had always been calm, always seemed content to follow her lead, wherever she may set a course. But now he looked like he would jump out of his skin—plates—in agitation. He'd only asked for her help once before and she knew it wasn't something to be taken lightly. But he had never looked so anxious.

"What's on your mind, Garrus?" she finally asked, turning to face him and half-sit on the edge of her desk. Whatever he was feeling, whatever he was dealing with, she wanted to help, but the wildness she could see in him made her nervous. He looked like he was seconds away from losing it as he paced across the entry to her cabin, pausing for only a second to look at her empty fish tanks before taking up his pacing again. Garrus wasn't one to jump into anything, let alone show his distress so openly. In fact, the only time she'd ever seen him show anything other than calm acceptance was when she was in danger; those were the only time she saw any signs of desperation. Her mind ran wild with the thought; what could possibly have him reacting like this? She forced her attention back to the turian in front of her; if he was asking for help and looking this wound up, she needed to be focused. Still, her mind wouldn't let go of the fact that fear had laced his voice whenever the _Estevanico_ had lurched underneath her, or the way he had seemed so concerned about her safety ever since she had found him on Omega… She shook her head slightly, bringing herself back to the present, waiting for an explanation.

"You remember… I told you that my team was betrayed, on Omega. Someone on my team, someone I trusted, ratted us out to the mercs." He was staring at the floor now as he paced and it was making her more and more on edge. He wasn't just agitated, he seemed… angry, and… guilty? Why couldn't he just look at her and tell her what he needed? Was he avoiding her eyes because he was ashamed—of the situation or his anger—or, the worst and most likely answer, because she _had_ actually made him that uncomfortable around her? _Did I mess this up before it even started?_

"How?" was the only word she managed to force out, trying not to push him away any more than she already had.

"He… Sidonis…" She could hear him grind his teeth and took a step away from her desk, towards him. It was becoming more and more apparent that he was having trouble talking about this and she wanted to let him know she could be there for him, but he continued, unaware of her step nearer. "He lured me away, said he needed my help. He wasn't there, and I realized too late it was a trap. When I finally got back to our base, they…" His voice cracked and he stopped, fists clenched at his sides and eyes shut tight. The images of his squad—broken, bloodied, tortured—flashed before his eyes and he felt his gut clench, threatening to rebel. He would never be able to think about it without feeling ill. His hands shook, and Shepard reached out as if to touch his shoulder, but he turned sharply and stepped out of her reach before she could touch him. She brought her hand back slowly, trying not to let the sting show. Maybe he didn't want her to touch him… She wouldn't blame him. The conversation they'd had while she was on the _Estevanico_ was… Well, unprofessional didn't even begin to cover it. He didn't need her to make him any more uncomfortable. He simply continued, unaware of his perceived effort to avoid her grasp. "They killed my entire team, except for Sidonis. I was pinged by a ghost, and word is Sidonis is on the Citadel, trying to get in touch with an identity forger named Fade." He finally lifted his eyes to look at her again and the hollowness of his expression sent a shudder down her spine. "I need to find him."

Shepard settled into her hip and crossed her arms, trying to put a barrier between them. The emptiness in his eyes, the callous chill in his voice… This wasn't Garrus—not her Garrus—and it alarmed her. _Is that what happened to you?_ she thought sadly, _Is that what changed you?_ Her eyes searched his expression, trying to find even a glimmer of the Garrus she knew, but everything familiar there was gone. Now, his face was set in the same lifeless look he'd had on Omega when she'd first found him. Where was the Garrus she had trusted with her back—the Garrus that only a few hours ago had been so open, so caring? Her stomach dropped, but she clenched her hands into tight fists, blunt nails biting into the skin of her palms; she felt her shoulders sag a bit when he continued to stare at her, his expression that of a man haunted. Wasn't it only the other night that he had insisted she not blame herself? Was it guilt that he was trying to hide? Or just anger?

"Whatever you need, Garrus," she finally said, her voice lacking the strength it normally did. If he asked, she would never tell the truth; it had just been a trying day, that's all. "This is obviously important to you. Just tell Joker to set a course and we'll take care of it." _Somehow…_

If Garrus noticed her unease, he said nothing; thoughts of revenge and delayed but finally dealt justice rushed through his head, making anything else impossible to focus on. "Thanks, Shepard. I appreciate it." He was gone before she could say anything more, the door sliding shut silently behind him.

Shepard set her head in her hands and let out a shaky breath. She didn't like the change that had come over Garrus—it was weird enough to see him as this jaded and cynical mercenary rather than the young cop who just wanted to make a difference—but this… This scared her. This was more than just a slight—that was understatement—personality change; this was a body on autopilot. Was this what Thane meant when the body and soul were disconnected? Her arms wrapped around her middle as that thought began to grow, stretching its tentacles to touch every choice she'd ever made. Was this how she had been on Omega, after her resurrection? A slight shake of her head was all she needed to find something else to worry about, simply exchanging one concern for another.

What happened when they found this Sidonis? Would Garrus lose it? Would he be safe? Would her squad be safe with him? She slid down to the floor and laid her forehead against her knees. She didn't like where this mission was heading… She didn't like where Garrus was heading.

* * *

Shepard tried to ignore the sense of dread she had as they approached Captain Bailey's desk; she didn't know where this would take them. Garrus was fidgeting by her side, but she kept her eyes ahead in an effort to appear stoic. In reality, if he didn't stop messing with the pistol at his hip, she was going to break his arm; her patience was thin and the change that Garrus had underwent in the short time it had taken for them to get to the Citadel was mostly to blame. She had opted to only bring Garrus with her this time; she had a feeling that his reaction to being there came from how personal this mission was, and she wasn't sure that anyone besides herself wouldn't be in danger. Hell, she wasn't sure that she wasn't already in danger. But at least she could be responsible for any trouble she got into. No one else was going to take this risk.

"Bailey."

The man looked up and jumped slightly. "Hell, Shepard, I didn't hear you come up. Give a guy a heart attack, why…" His gaze wandered over to her companion and he blinked. "Vakarian? Son of a bitch, what happened to your face?"

"Long story. We need your help," Garrus replied tightly, knotting his talons behind his back in an effort to appear calm. Shepard tried not to show her surprise that they knew each other; C-Sec wasn't _that_ large, after all.

"I'm sure it is." Bailey chose to only acknowledge Garrus's quick dodge of his question. "You know, it's funny… After you left, Vakarian, that red sand dealer you were after was found dead on Omega. Bullet to the brain, nice and neat." Bailey fixed him with a level stare and Shepard was trying to think of a way out of the conversation. She tried not to swear as the two men gazed levelly at each other. Perfect headshots were Garrus's specialty, something he took great pride in. Did Bailey know that?

"Karma's a bitch, I hear," Garrus replied levelly, picking his words carefully, "I like to think that what goes around comes around. Makes the sleepless nights easier. And if anyone had it coming, he did. I'd love to shake the hand of the guy who shot him."

"You and me both."

Shepard could barely contain her sigh of relief and Bailey smirked a little at the surprised twitch of Garrus's mandibles. _Son of a bitch, he knows… And he's not going to arrest Garrus?_ Technically, C-Sec didn't have jurisdiction in the Terminus, so she had known that but… It had seemed a little too good to hope. She rubbed her temple absently—the tension headache that was building in her skull wasn't even a surprise—before speaking up.

"Listen, Bailey, we're looking for someone: a forger named 'Fade'," she said.

"Fade… Well, if you find him, I'd be much obliged. We've been after him for months." Shepard didn't miss the hint of bitterness in the C-Sec captain's voice before he continued, "He's a ghost, Shepard, always one step ahead of us."

"You haven't caught him?" A rumble was rising deep in Garrus's chest and she cast him a warning glance. He wasn't looking at her though, instead glowering daggers at the man seated before them; Shepard was sure Bailey was now immensely grateful for the desk that separated them. Garrus had far too much experience with the flaws of the justice system on the Citadel—he shouldn't have been surprised by the captain's revelation—but it still angered him; he was so close, and now the same system he'd tried to escape was screwing him over, once again.

"Not for lack of trying, believe me, Garrus. Every time we get close, he goes to ground. We're starting to think there's a mole in C-Sec feeding him information. He's way too familiar with our system, way too good at his job." Bailey interlocked his fingers and set his chin on his knuckles. "His method is flawless; anyone who hires him is scrubbed from every record we have, and that's a tall order."

"It would explain why so many of my perps walked…" Garrus's expression darkened and Shepard found herself taking a step to the side, away from him, out of blind instinct; the predatory menace in the way he was standing made the flight instinct within her fire into overdrive. It was only her abundance of self-control that kept her from calling the whole thing off and high-tailing it back to the _Normandy_.

For the first time, she was afraid of her best friend.

He was so angry, so resentful of a system he had stood behind so proudly, for all its faults. Who was this man by her side? _What happened at C-Sec? What else did I miss when I died?_ She risked a glance at Garrus again, but quickly turned her attention back to Bailey. "Any idea where we can find him?"

"If I knew, I would have arrested him already," Bailey replied tartly and Shepard raised a brow. She wasn't above clocking the man; she already had one C-Sec—ex C-Sec—officer to deal with and she did not need a second making her life difficult. Well, more difficult. "But he has contacts in the warehouses on the Lower Zakera Ward. Talk to one of them and see what you can dig up. Good luck, Shepard."

She knew a dismissal when she heard it and strode away, trying to ignore the way Garrus's gaze was burning into the back of her neck. "Can I help you?" she finally huffed, turning to face him. He nearly ran into her, stopping just short of her stubbornly lifted chin. She didn't like the way he was silently seething; it made her unsure of his ability to remain objective. _Well gee, Shepard, his squad was murdered in cold blood. Wouldn't you be upset?_ A scowl flickered at the corner of her mouth but she stopped it.

_Regardless, I need to know that he won't do anything rash. I need to know I won't lose him because he jumps the gun and gets shot… even if I've already lost him._

She could see his jaw working back and forth as he looked down at her and waited, squaring her shoulders and setting her stance to block him if he went to go around her. "I'm fine. Just… a little wound up."

"A little?" She gave his shoulder a light shove and his hand was around her wrist in a flash. Her brow arched and he let her arm drop with a slightly embarrassed grunt. He'd proven her point. "More than a little. Garrus, I need to know you can be calm about this. The last thing I need is to worry about a criminal at my front and an unstable gun at my back." She could see his expression darken as he went to protest, but she held up a hand and cut him off. "This isn't me saying I don't trust you, far from it. I trust you with my life, Garrus, but not when you look ready to murder the next bastard that looks at you wrong. I can't have you charging in half-cocked and putting me and more importantly yourself in danger. You need to get your head on straight, clear?" Shepard hated the words coming out of her mouth, but right now, she needed to be his Commander. She could be his friend later, when this was all settled… If he would let her. _If he even wants that now._ Her gut clenched and it took some effort to maintain her expression. She hadn't thought about what would happen after this mission, but if its beginning was any indication, they wouldn't be going back to the way things were.

They simply stared at each other for a few moments and Garrus finally looked away, a silent yield to her authority. "Crystal, Commander." The subtle barb felt like she had been punched, but she didn't show it. She wasn't "Shepard" anymore, just "Commander".

_He probably won't call you Jane again…_

She didn't know why that mattered to her so much, but it felt like someone was squeezing her heart, trying to make it burst. This mission was steadily driving them apart, slowly fraying both of their nerves in the worst way. Her only hope was that it could be fixed and that her friend—the Garrus she had trusted to watch her back from the Citadel to Ilos—was still in there. A defeated sigh escaped her and she started back through the Wards.

"Come on. Let's see if we can't find this Fade character." _I could use something to punch…_

* * *

The warehouse Bailey had pointed them toward was nothing special—crates everywhere, a couple storerooms off to the side—but the volus flanked by two krogan mercenaries was noteworthy. So the volus was who they were looking for… That made the krogan hired muscle. Shepard met the assessing stares levelly and let a hand settle on the grip of her pistol threateningly. She didn't dare risk a glance at Garrus; she hadn't forgotten her close-quarters tangle with Garm and she wasn't about to give them the chance to blindside her.

"Fade?" she inquired tightly and the volus stepped forward.

"Yes, yes. Alright, which one of you wants to disappear," he wheezed, gesturing vaguely between the two of them. Shepard wasn't convinced, regarding the rotund alien with mild skepticism. No way _this_ was the guy giving C-Sec a run for their money.

It was Garrus who answered, "Actually, I was hoping you could make someone reappear. A friend of mine that I'm looking for..." His tone sent a chill down Shepard's spine, the unspoken threat clear in the menacing pitch of his voice.

"That's… not really a service I provide," the volus tried, bravado quickly crumbling, as he found Garrus's gun pointed at his face. Shepard cursed under her breath and drew her own gun on the krogan as they hefted their shotguns, gaze flicking between them. _If they don't kill us, I swear I'll flay him…_ Unnecessary violence like this was exactly what she had wanted to avoid, exactly what she had been worried about.

"Make an exception," was Garrus's cold reply, flicking off the safety and flexing his finger threateningly over the trigger. The volus's gasp was audible through his respirator and Shepard was sure he had soiled his envirosuit.

"Get them you lumbering mountains!" he cried, turning to his hired bodyguards. They looked between themselves before eyeing Shepard. Her mouth curled into a ruthless smirk; it was a practiced act, but they didn't need to know that.

"I'd walk away if I were you," she said, surprised by the indifference in her words. Inside, she was panicking, trying to find a way out, but her expression was otherwise unreadable. "Being my enemy is unhealthy. They tend to come down with a bad case of death." She saw the flicker of uncertainty between the krogan and let her gaze become flinty. "Scram."

They took the opportunity and the volus sputtered indignantly at their retreating backs. "What's the point of hiring body guards if they won't protect you?!" he blustered before turning back to the barrel of Garrus's gun and falling silent. "Er… Maybe we can dispense with the threats?"

"Oh, I dunno… They appear to be working just fine," Garrus growled, not lowering the pistol. Shepard gaped at him openly before jerking his arm away and planting herself between him and the obviously-relieved volus. He looked ready to tear her apart, but she promptly turned her back to him and knelt in front of the alien.

"Listen, I don't want to let him hurt you, but I will. I don't have time to play games. You're not Fade." The volus didn't try to deny it and she poked his chest, making him stagger back a step. "So, you're going to tell us where to find him."

"I… I can't just…"

"Wrong answer." Garrus had stepped around her and leveled a shot at the terrified volus; she yelled, throwing out her arm. The intended target tumbled unceremoniously out of the way in the wake of her reflexive backhand, and the shot echoed in the small space, ricocheting off the wall and ceiling before burying itself in a storage crate.

"What the hell, Garrus?!" she all but screamed, jumping to her feet and grabbing him by the front of his armor. "You could have gotten us killed, or worse. We need him. And you!" She didn't release Garrus, but turned her gaze to the volus as he struggled to his feet. "You're not going anywhere until you tell us where to find the real Fade. Otherwise, next time it'll be me shooting you, and I won't miss. Now where is he?" Adrenaline was thrumming through her veins and she could feel her heart pounding in her head.

"The factory district! He has a hideout in old prefab foundry!"

Shepard scowled, but gave a jerk of her head—a silent command to run before she changed her mind—and turned back to her teammate. The look on her friend's face would have sent anyone else running, but she only glared back and gave him a shake. "This is _exactly_ what I was talking about, Garrus," she hissed, finally releasing him and stepping back. She crossed her arms to hide her shaking hands, trying to remain composed. She was still in command here, damn it. "Any more bull shit like this, and I swear I will send you back to the _Normandy_ and take care of this myself, regardless of whatever history you have with this Sidonis. I will not have you running rampant on the Citadel on some honor-bound revenge mission. This is not Omega, you can't play king of the mercenaries here. Now I will ask this again since we weren't on the same page last time: am I being clear?"

She tried not to let her fear show when he took a step forward, inches between their faces. This wasn't Garrus—this cold, merciless killer—and she didn't know how to get him back. Animosity was rolling off of him in waves and it took a herculean effort to stand her ground.

"You have no idea what he's done, Commander. You didn't see them. You didn't watch them die."

Her cheeks paled and in a brief moment of clarity, he saw that he had made a mistake. Her lips pursed into a thin line and he could see thinly veiled anger only rivaled by his own spreading through her body like a poison, but it never spilled over. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a long breath, planting her hands on her hips.

"Let's get one thing straight," she finally growled, eyes boring through him, "I have lost more than you can imagine. I have seen my fair share of people die. So don't you dare tell me I have no idea." When she spoke again it was deathly quiet, "I have killed thousands with a word. I've talked someone into killing himself. You of all people should know that."

She had turned, stalking back towards the Wards before he could answer and he had to trot to catch up with her again. He didn't try to say anything to her and she wasn't looking for a reply, leaving them to walk in silence until they hailed a transport to the factory district.

The rift was growing and they both knew it.

The ride was spent in more uncomfortable silence, but Garrus's mind was abuzz and elsewhere. He was so close… so close to finally setting things right. Sidonis would finally pay. He risked a glance at the scrolling list of names in the corner of his visor. Erash. Monteague. Mierin. Grundan Krul. Melanis. Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver. Each one sent a stab of guilt, but he could never bring himself to stop the infinite loop; they deserved to be remembered. They had done everything right; they had wanted to make a difference… _It should have been me._ It should have been him that the gangs attacked, it should have been his body that was mangled and tossed aside, it should have been his life that was cut short. The least he could do was remember them. Shepard… she didn't understand. Yes, she had suffered, she had seen terrible things, but she just… didn't get it. She couldn't. She had never been betrayed like that. She didn't know what it felt like to cost friends their lives for trusting the wrong person. She couldn't understand what he felt.

Guilt was crushing him. Anger was burning him from the inside out. The memories tormented him. Their faces haunted him.

He had failed them.

The transport lurched to a halt and he saw Shepard glance over at him before stepping down. She didn't trust him now. He'd failed her too.

"Come on, I don't want to give them time to—" She stopped midsentence, eyes narrowing as motion by the foundry doors caught her attention. Why did they look familiar…?

Garrus followed her gaze and felt his throat tighten. This was it. One of them was Fade, one of them knew where Sidonis was, one of them…

One of them was Harkin.

The pieces fell into place and a savage roar escaped him. Harkin was Fade. Harkin was feeding C-Sec protocols to thugs, making them disappear. Harkin had been screwing the system. Harkin. "You son of a bitch, you're not getting away this time!" His rifle was in his hands in a flash and a shot rang out, speeding across the space to bury itself in the wall just wide of Harkin's head. Undiluted rage made his hands shake and he growled as Harkin started.

The C-Sec wash-out stared at them, realization slowly dawning. "Shit…" He gestured wildly for his squad of mercenaries to move out. "Don't just stand there! Stop them!"

"Run all you want, Harkin, but we'll find you!" Shepard shouted as he turned and ran for the door. It slid shut behind him and Shepard cursed, ducking behind cover as the Blue Suns mercenaries opened fire. Frustration made her tighten her grip on her pistol as she peered over the crate she was using as cover. Harkin. She should have known the guy was scum the first time she'd met him in Chora's Den. And Garrus… She risked a quick look back to where he was gunning down the mercs with precise shots. Garrus had worked with him, had trusted him. _He trusted Sidonis too_. She rose out of cover and emptied her clip, dropping back down to shove a new one home. _We should be fighting them, not each other._ The last of the mercs fell and she moved toward the door, pausing as Garrus came up alongside her. She had spent the time in the transport thinking, trying to justify the way she had reacted in the warehouse; it was becoming more and more apparent that, even if he was wrong, she didn't want to be opposing her friend. "Garrus." She put out an arm to stop him, but he brushed past her.

"He's getting away."

She stared after him—momentarily stunned—as he moved into the foundry and she snapped her mouth shut; he didn't care about anything but finding Sidonis. Fine. But at the rate he was going, she wouldn't be surprised if he got himself injured—or worse—before they ever found Sidonis; he was putting everything else second, including his own safety. No matter what, she was going to make sure Garrus didn't go down with him. He had already cleared the room when she caught up to him and he didn't give her a sideways glance, rifle settled in his hands. She moved forward alongside him, her own pistol drawn, but the mercenaries fell before she could even sight them, gaping holes rendering their major organs—or circuit boards—useless. Sometimes she forgot just how good of a shot he was. _He managed to hit you, after all. And with an intentionally nonlethal shot._ Her gaze wandered to his face as they moved forward, Blue Suns corpses and shattered mechs littering their path. She knew he could do it again, could easily end her, and with the mood he was in now, she wasn't sure he wouldn't. A canister exploded off to her side and she raised her pistol, punching two bullets through the merc's head before he fell. _Focus. Mercenaries now, possible train wreck later._

"Harkin's in here somewhere… I can smell him."

Garrus's voice drew her out of her thoughts and she looked around the large assembly room they had walked into. Questioning him about it would be useless—he wasn't thinking about the present, he was thinking about the peace he could finally have in the future—so she simply nodded, keeping close to his side.

"Lethal force authorized."

Shepard ducked behind cover as mechs advanced toward them, mercenaries not far behind, but Garrus stood calmly, rifle lazily pointing at the ground. She almost screamed, leaning out of cover to pick off the closest two, but he didn't move. He didn't even seem to see the room in front of them. With a growl, she jumped to her feet and threw a pulse of biotics out into the advancing soldiers, staggering them long enough to reload her pistol.

"Garrus!"

He snapped out of his reverie, scope coming up to his eye in one smooth motion and he fired off the entire clip with quick, rapid-fire precision. He didn't move, didn't bother to take cover as he reloaded, almost looking bored as he set up to take down another squad. Shepard bit her lip, watching as he executed the mercenaries with little thought, and tried to tell herself that everything was fine.

Everything was not fine.

She popped out of cover to throw out another blast of biotics, but Garrus's rifle fire dropped the last of their enemies before she could find a target. She cautiously moved forward, nudging one of the mercenaries with her toe. A bullet hole decorated the center of his forehead, glazed eyes staring straight ahead, and she shuddered. Perfect headshot. A sweeping look told her that most of them were, in fact, some manner of headshot; it stunned her even further into silence and she quickly strode toward the controls at the end of the room. A few quick taps of her omnitool at the bridge lowered, giving them access to the rest of the foundry.

"We're getting close."

Shepard felt her shoulders hunch slightly, a subtle defense mechanism, but nodded and gestured toward the bridge. She hadn't heard him move up with her and she was beginning to wonder just how much she knew about her friend. _I never knew he was capable of this,_ she lamented, _I knew he was good in combat but never… never this._ It was uncanny; really, it was unnatural but she quickly pushed that out of her mind. He was completely detached, it was almost like watching someone sleep walking—if that someone had an expertly modded and well-loved sniper rifle.

Garrus stepped onto the bridge, but his mind was miles away. _Just like Omega. Quick and clean._ Every time the rifle recoiled against him, he was reminded of the bridge, sitting up above, waiting for his targets to charge in after him. Even now, they were the same hopeless fools funneling right into scope. _Jaroth, Garm, Tarak… They all paid. You're the only one left, Sidonis. And I made a promise to remedy that._ There was an ache deep in his chest, but he ignored it. _This is where it ends._

As they stepped further into the corridor, more Blue Suns poured into the space and Shepard swore, ducking behind a pile of crates as her shields began to fall. Yet Garrus didn't follow and her eyes widened as she watched him stride straight toward the growing group of mercenaries. _Son of a bitch…_ She could see the bullets raining around him, could see his shields beginning to flicker as he gunned them down one by one. Sparks showed where a bullet had grazed his armor and she bolted out of cover. _Fucking dumb ass is going to get himself killed!_ She dropped down and slid across the floor, knocking one merc's legs out from under him as she set off another biotic pulse. The man moaned and made as if to stand, but a sniper round tore through his neck and he fell in a heap. Shepard rolled to her feet and fired off her last shots. The mercs fell and she whirled on her teammate.

"One reason. Give me one good reason not to send you back to the ship," she started, stalking toward the turian sniper. If Garrus saw her fury, he didn't acknowledge it, instead staring straight through her. "You could have gotten yourself killed pulling shit like that, Vakarian. Never again. Do you understand me?" _Don't you dare die on me… I need you to keep me sane… I need you. _Her breath hitched when she stopped to take a breath and she felt a tightness rise in her throat; the panic that surrounded her when she saw him get shot… _You can't die_.

"It was under control."

Shepard gaped at him, her mind going completely blank in the face of his casual indifference. "Under control?!" She was practically shrieking now. "Two inches, Garrus. Two inches to the right and that bullet would have punched into your chest. Two inches, and you would have been overrun and I wouldn't have been able to get rid them all in time to save you. Think, damn you!" She shoved him with a scowl before turning away, trying to suppress the rush of anger and fear that threatened to overwhelm her; she could feel tears brimming in her eyes and she struggled to keep her voice steady. "I have had more than enough of this reckless vigilante bullshit. You aren't Archangel anymore, Garrus. Put it behind you." Her feet were carrying her away from him, hopefully quick enough that he didn't see the tears sliding down her face; she felt helpless and she wasn't sure how much more she could take. She couldn't fix him—not quickly, anyway—and she wasn't sure that things would go back to the way they were. And now he was walking around like he wanted to embrace death, to finish what the gangs on Omega had started… A fresh surge of tears burned down her cheeks but she brushed them away quickly. He couldn't die, she wouldn't let him. But he seemed awfully determined to make it happen…

Garrus stared at Shepard's back as she walked away from him; the look on her face before she turned her back on him had caused something to tug in his gut. _Was that…Was she…?_ He was just about to reach a hand out toward her when a heavy mech plummeted from the sky, landing directly in front of her. "Heavy mech!" he yelled.

Garrus's warning shout drew her out of her thoughts and she fell back as the heavy metal golem was dropped into the open space before her, its bulk filling her field of view. She cursed up and down, scrambling backwards and trying to draw her pistol at the same time. The mech expanded slowly, its arms and legs flexing experimentally before it swung its face plate around to find a target. When she finally got her gun out and pulled the trigger, the mechanism clicked plaintively and she threw it away, trying to put more distance between herself and the mech as it locked onto her, guns priming. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck!_

Garrus watched, almost in slow-motion, as the mech descended on Shepard; Shepard, who was scrambling back on the floor, desperately trying to retrieve another weapon. Something snapped in his chest and he found himself lunging forward towards her before he had made the conscious decision to do so. "Shepard!" _Please, not Shepard. Not the last person I have._ He gripped her around her waist and dragged her to his chest, pulling them both behind cover. He felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath from her as the mech's guns fired, peppering the ground next to them with bullets; he only pulled her in more though, trying to reassure her as much as himself that she was safe. A growl rumbled from deep within him when she went to move, holding her in place as he listened. The heavy thumps of mechanical footfalls broke through the fog of fear that had surrounded him, and he looked out from behind the crate, moving Shepard so she was slightly behind him and trying to get a good idea of where the mech was. His rifle was in his hands again before she could voice her protest and he leaned out of cover to activate the overload program on his omnitool.

Shepard stared at him, stunned, as the mech advanced on their hiding place, unsure of what to think. Not a minute before, he had been cold and calculating, dropping mechs and Blue Suns without a second thought to his own safety; and now he was holding them both behind cover—after he had probably saved her life. He hadn't seemed too concerned with her wellbeing this entire mission, but now he pressed her back against the crates, almost desperately trying to keep her out of range of the mech. While not unwelcome, the sudden change in his demeanor unnerved her a bit; this was more like the Garrus she knew. This was the Garrus that had dragged her into cover on Illium, the Garrus that had yelled at her on the Collector's ship when she failed to stay in cover. But now… was he actually back? Was everything back to normal? Could it be that simple? Or was it just temporary until he felt sure she was out of immediate danger? It was drilled into turians to sacrifice themselves for their commanding officers; was this just some reawakened instinct from his time in the turian military, or was he actually coming back to himself? To her? The shifts in his behavior were starting to make her head spin.

His overload hit the mech and its shields fizzled slightly, allowing him to get two shots off before it fully recovered; Shepard reached over her shoulder and grabbed her assault rifle, trying to pop her head out of cover to get a shot on it herself. Garrus however, simply sidestepped and pressed an arm across her shoulders, pushing her back again so her armor slammed roughly against the back of the crate. She scowled and pushed against his arm, trying to break free of his grasp but his grip refused to loosen as he continued to hold her down; he wasn't going to be able to take that thing down by himself, so why wasn't he letting her help him? She finally just jerked back, further into cover, startling him in the process; he snapped his head back towards her and their eyes met. He looked… terrified. Was that all from her run in with the mech? They had faced worse before, what made this different? But Shepard realized she had never see that look before, not even on the Collector base, and a chill of fear shot through her; there had to be something to explain it, but nothing came to mind. Hell, he had been practically oblivious to her presence up until now… what had changed? Shepard wrenched her eyes away from his face, trying to suppress the desire to reassure him—angry at each other or not, she never wanted to be the reason he was upset—and turned to aim at the mech before he could stop her. What had gotten into him? What was he thinking? She managed to get in a few shots before another overload hit the machine, finally toppling it over. Garrus immediately stepped out of cover, stalking over to a group of spare thermals clips lying on the ground. He grabbed them, replacing his own spent clips, and silently handed her the rest.

"Thanks," she said, reaching out and accepting them while trying to catch his gaze.

He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye, couldn't face the questions he knew were there. He wasn't even sure what had come over him; it was almost like he hadn't been in control. He couldn't consciously remember making the decision to drag her out of the mech's path or hold her down in cover. The confusion he knew would show in her face was the same that was running through his own mind; she didn't understand his rapid changes in mood, but he wasn't even aware he was doing it. The only thing on his mind right now was Sidonis. And Harkin. He was so close… But something in his gut, something instinctive had taken over and just… demanded he act, and that meant putting himself between Shepard and that mech. How was he supposed to explain that to her? What could he say? He'd already lost her trust—and probably her friendship—so how was he supposed to tell her that something unconscious had compelled him to protect her? So, instead of looking her in the eye, he simply turned and started walking towards the door at the end of the room.

Shepard jammed a clip home and turned to retrieve her pistol from where it had skittered to a halt behind a shipping container. Her feet carried her after him as she ejected the clip and replaced it with a fresh one, but she hung back to watch as he moved forward. Tension had settled across his shoulders and she could see the stiffness in the way he was carrying himself. Something was troubling him, yet he didn't trust her enough to tell her what it was. That hurt more than his indifference. But just for a second, she had seen a glimpse of the old Garrus, the one she had trusted to watch her six against Saren and again now; it was gone now, but it had been there. She didn't know whether to be happy Garrus had a brief moment of clarity or to be more worried. She trotted after him, catching up as they entered what looked like an office.

The window shutter slid open, showing another open warehouse and they both stopped in front of it. For a moment, neither said anything; Garrus was leaning on the window ledge trying to get a glimpse of his target while Shepard shuffled awkwardly at his side.

"Garrus, I know you worked with Harkin at C-Sec…"

"It doesn't matter, Shepard," he interrupted, "He's just a pain in the ass, just like he was back then." Something seemed to come over him and his expression darkened, making her take a step back. "I'm in no mood for his games, this time. If he doesn't cooperate, I'm going to beat him within in an inch of his life…" The menace in his voice as he let that statement linger in the air made her cast a wary glance at the room ahead of them.

"You seem to be getting a bit tense, Garrus." That was the understatement of the century, but she tried to keep her tone light. Maybe if she pretended nothing was different, then it would be true. Maybe if she reminded him of their jokes over the comm, he could stop looking so… dangerous.

He continued, seemingly oblivious to her slightly joking tone. "Harkin may know why Sidonis wanted to disappear…" he said, clenching his talons against the frame of the window. The low rumble held heavy implications and Shepard tentatively reached out. But when her fingers touched his armor, he abruptly stepped away from her, facing the other way. When he spoke next, it sounded strained. "Shepard, I have to do this. I…I can't let him get away with killing them. They didn't deserve that. And if Harkin knows what Sidonis did, he knows why we're here, and I don't want him tipping Sidonis off."

_Well,_ Shepard mused ruefully, _at least it's not just "Commander" anymore. _ He never called her by her rank, and when he did, it just felt… wrong.

A flicker of motion at the opposite end of the room caught their attention and they both drew weapons, ducking out of sight. When their gazes met again, Shepard's heart sank; the callous expression had fallen over his face again and his eyes were cold.

"Did you see that?"

"I saw something," she murmured, looking away. _Damn it._

"He's waiting for us." He almost sounded happy about it, like he wanted to fight his way through the room. Like he wanted to kill things. This wasn't her friend.

"We won't catch him waiting here," she finally sighed, moving to the door connecting to the open room. Her stride was measured and she tried not to let her fatigue show; really, this mission had tired her out much faster than any other. She knew it was trying to keep up with Garrus's state of mind that had drained her, but she would never admit it. She was worried about him, but something told her that right now, he wouldn't appreciate her concern. Damn him for being stubborn and independent; he had a hard enough time accepting help or empathy when he wasn't in this… funk. He'd probably bite her head off.

"Right behind you."

She nodded vaguely as they entered, scanning for any sign of danger. Sure, he said it but… It didn't feel like it. She risked a glance over her shoulder and sighed; Garrus was no longer at her back. Instead, he was already flanking the raised platforms in the center of the room and he would soon be out of her line of sight. _Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. He's going to get himself fucking killed. Didn't he listen to me last time?_ Her jaw clenched and she could hear her teeth grinding together of their own accord as she moved forward. If his bullshit actions got himself killed, she would make sure Miranda resurrected him just so she could kill him again herself. A mech unfolded itself directly to her left and she lashed out, butt of her pistol shattering its faceplate and sending it sprawling; the pleasant sound of cracking glass briefly lifted the despair that had settled in her gut. Another took its place and she could hear the telltale shouts of surprise mercenaries over sporadic rifle fire. A merc looked down at her from a platform above, training his gun on her, and a savage grin pulled at her lip. _Wrong choice, asshole_, she thought bitterly as she ran toward him. She jumped, planting one foot on the mech's shoulder as she fired a shot straight through the top of its head and vaulted off, landing just a few feet wide of her target. He spun, surprise written on his face before a bullet tore through his chest. She stared down the sights of her gun for a moment as he fell before slowly lowering her arm. Was this what Garrus was feeling? Was this what it felt like to be so consumed by anger? She could tell herself that she had felt it when she'd first gone to Omega, but it was a lie. She had felt empty, then. This was… Her hands were shaking, adrenaline and raw energy thrumming through her body in a rush as she turned to scan the room. A few mercenaries had realized that they were in trouble and had retreated to defensible, high-ground positions, but she still couldn't see Garrus. The loud crack of a rifle discharging sounded a few yards ahead of her and she caught sight of a flash of blue before he moved. _This isn't you…_ she thought resentfully. A round buried itself in the platform between her feet and she scowled, turning on the entrenched mercs to throw out a flurry of biotic missiles before raising her pistol again. The first two fell under as tiny mass effect pulses tore their molecules apart, but the last two stubbornly stayed behind cover and she leapt across the gap, determined to take them out. She needed to kill something.

Two sniper shots sailed over her shoulder and lodged themselves in the skulls of the last two mercs as they peered out of cover, making Shepard spin to find the shooter. Garrus stared levelly at her from the other side of the room, his expression impassive. A shudder wracked her body for a moment and she stared at the lifeless eyes of the two recently-deceased mercs. _Any miscalculation and that could have been me. That could have been me…_ When she went to find him again, Garrus had moved and she let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. If she hadn't been afraid of him before, she definitely was now. She shook the thought out of her mind and trotted toward the open space at the end of the room; they were close, just a bit further and—

"Heavy mechs incoming!"

_Mechs? As in, plural?!_ She grimaced and threw herself behind cover as the two hulking death machines were dropped directly in the path she had been following. _Fucking shit._ _Where the hell is—_

She heard him fire rather than saw, but the mech staggered and she took her chance. _I'm not sitting and waiting for you to almost get yourself killed again._ With a yell, she scrambled out of cover and sprinted straight toward the two mechs. Her heart was pounding, her blood roaring her ears that she almost didn't hear Garrus shouting at her.

"Shepard, what the hell are you doing?!"

Concern. Worry. _Finally an emotion besides contempt_, she thought. She dropped, sliding along the floor until she was directly under the first mech, aiming and emptying her clip into the robot's vulnerable undercarriage. It lifted a leg to stomp her and she poured all of her strength into a massive biotic pulse. The mech's balance faltered, sending it toppling onto its twin as its systems went offline. The remaining mech staggered under the extra weight and she rolled to her feet, dancing out of the way as it lashed out with one of its arms. The ground shook and she scrambled to put something between herself and the hulking metal behemoth. Her amp burned at the back of her neck and she leaned back against a stack of crates, panting as the mech's guns started priming. She sent up a silent prayer to whoever would listen as she reloaded, then spun out of cover before she could rethink what she was about to do.

"Jane!"

She fired as fast as the pistol would allow, bracing her stance as the hail of bullets steadily chipped away at her shields. A warning beep from her hardsuit computer told her she was out of time and she dove to one side, rolling into the mech's blind spot to reholster her pistol to her hip. _Now or never._ She jumped, grabbing onto the metal casing around the mech's shoulder and hauling herself up so she was leaning over its head. It spun and she clung on, swearing under her breath as she reeled back, drawing on the last bit of energy she had left to slam a biotically charged fist into the gap in its armor plating just between its shoulders. The mech shuddered and groaned, then pitched forward as its systems failed as well. Shepard let out a sigh of relief and sagged against the inactive mound of metal. Exhaustion was settling into her bones, overriding her anger and frustration, and she wanted nothing more than to just sleep. She could see Garrus stalking toward her from the corner of her eye, but couldn't bring herself to say anything or even react to the anger in his face.

"What the hell were you thinking?! You could have been killed! I swear, Shepard, you—"

"You really think you can take me down Garrus?" Harkin's voice taunted over the intercom and they both froze. Garrus's grip on his rifle tightened and he looked up to the enclosed office where Harkin was staring down at them. More mechs descended the ramps toward them and Garrus turned fully to face them. Shepard sneered. _Coward can't even come down and face him himself._ She could see Harkin fiddling with consoles as Garrus marched steadily up the ramp, only stopping to snipe the two LOKI mechs that Harkin had guarding the door to the control room. They were down before Shepard had vaulted over the last of the crates, and she started jogging when she saw Garrus march into the control room, going out of her sight. _What is he doing!? There's no one watching his back…_ She willed her exhausted muscles to move faster, running up the incline toward the door. A loud thump and a pained grunt reached her ears and she slammed the door control. Panic had swelled in her chest as the doors opened at a snail's pace, and she all but threw herself into the room. What greeted her, however, was not what she had expected. Garrus had Harkin up against the wall, pinning him by his neck with one of his forearms while his other fist was clenching and unclenching on the wall next to Harkin's head; blood was streaming from the human ex-C-Sec officer's nose—bent at an odd angle and obviously broken—and his upper lip was busted. He was clawing at Garrus's arm, trying to break free from the hold, but Garrus simply continued to press in on his neck, slowly cutting off the man's airflow. There was a callous indifference in the way he watched the man struggle to breathe and Shepard found herself grabbing the turian's arm and pulling him away before she had even resolved to do so. He turned his glare on her and she glowered back as Harkin slumped to the ground.

"He can't tell us where Sidonis is if he's dead, Garrus," she snapped. She'd had more than enough of his temperamental bullshit for one day, and she wasn't going to stand by and watch him murder someone, even someone who deserved it as much as Harkin did. _And what about Sidonis?_ _What about when we find him? What then? _She pushed the thought away and turned her attention to Harkin. "So, Fade, couldn't make yourself disappear, hm?" Harkin tried to give her a menacing stare but she laughed. _I have an angry turian to deal with,_ she thought snidely, _You are very low on my perceived threat list._ The combination of exhaustion and the ridiculousness of Harkin's attempted threat made the situation much more amusing to her than it actually was.

"Shepard… Good to see you haven't changed much. Still rocking that soldier get-up on that bod of yours," Harkin hissed, rubbing his neck as he shakily got to his feet.

"Enough!" Garrus growled out, an unconscious possessive rumble—unnoticed by Shepard or himself—sounding through his subharmonics when Harkin glanced casually over Shepard's body. He grabbed the man by his collar and slammed him against the wall again. Shepard didn't even bother trying to stop him, instead settling into her hip to watch; the man had it coming especially since he clearly wasn't taking Garrus seriously.

"Come on, Garrus, we can work this out… Whaddya need?" Harkin said quickly, smiling through the blood that covered the lower part of his face. Maybe he finally realized this wasn't a game. Garrus's grip loosened enough so Harkin's feet touched the ground and Shepard felt a knot of tension that had settled in her gut loosen a little. Maybe he was in control after all…

"I'm looking for someone."

"Well, I guess we both have something the other one wants…" Harkin looked smug and Shepard winced internally. That was a mistake; and the look in Garrus's eye told her that Harkin was in for a lot more hurt if he kept it up. The movement was so quick she almost missed Garrus slamming his knee into the human's groin. Almost. Instead, she smirked, watching Harkin double over, groaning in pain. The poetic justice wasn't lost on her, but she could appreciate it another time. Instead, she casually crossed her arms and sighed.

"This doesn't have to be hard, Harkin," she told him bluntly, watching as he slowly got to his feet.

"You don't say?"

She scowled at the sarcasm in his voice, contemplating the possibility of roughing him up herself, but Garrus beat her to the punch. Literally. The blow made Harkin double over, but Garrus caught him and hoisted him back up again, roughly slamming him back into the wall.

"You helped a friend of mine disappear. I need to find him."

"I might need a little more information than that," Harkin wheezed, wincing when the gash in his lip reopened. For a second, Shepard wondered if Garrus would hit him again, just to remind the infuriating man who he was dealing with, but the blow never came.

"His name is Sidonis. Turian. Came from the—"

"I know who he is," Harkin cut him off, and Shepard scowled. "And I'm not telling you squat!"

_Why not? He could save himself a ton of trouble… And bruises._ "Is it really worth all this trouble?" she sighed, rubbing her temple absently.

"I don't give out client information. It's bad for business," Harkin replied tartly, as if she had offended him somehow. Really, he should have been more careful about how he was handling two angry, well-armed soldiers, but that didn't seem to be Harkin's way.

"You know what else is bad for business," Garrus started darkly, throwing Harkin to the ground and placing one booted foot over the man's throat, "A broken neck!"

Harkin sputtered under the pressure, trying to shove the much-heavier turian off, but got nowhere. "Alright, alright, get off!" he gasped. But Garrus made no move to do so and Shepard watched Harkin begin to turn a nice shade of red as he struggled before grabbing Garrus's arm. He looked sidelong at her and she shook her head, gesturing that they would deal with him later. For a moment, she wondered if he might refuse—just to kill Harkin out of spite—but he reluctantly stepped back and let Harkin breathe again. The man sat up but didn't rise, looking down at the floor as he took great gulps of air. "Terminus really changed you, huh Garrus?"

Garrus stiffened and Shepard looked up to watch him; his mandibles pulled tight to his face and his eyes narrowed slightly at the slumped human. "No, but Sidonis… opened my eyes." His eyes flickered to Shepard and she felt her heart drop. It wasn't just the betrayal that bothered Garrus so much, it was what it meant; there were no purely good people, everybody had a motive, and everybody lied. He could have gone his whole life without knowing that, but Sidonis had made sure to show him in the most painful way possible. Her expression softened and she felt her frustration melt away—tempered by understanding—as Garrus looked away from her again. "Now arrange a meeting."

Harkin stood stiffly, glancing between them for a possible way out before Garrus gave him a meaningful look and jerked his head toward the communications console. He wasn't going to get out of this that easily, and he knew it. The bloodied man grunted and leaned heavily against the console as the connection fired up. Shepard didn't hear what was said, instead watching her teammate look over his sidearm pensively; what was he thinking? A look at his face proved fruitless, his expression betraying nothing as they waited for Harkin to set up the meet. Would he shoot Harkin anyway? In cold blood?

_What happened to that insufferable honor you used to have? What happened to the idealistic kid that made me think there was something good left that the galaxy hadn't crushed out yet?_

_The galaxy finally crushed it…_

Harkin's voice interrupted her train of thought—thankfully—as he approached cautiously. "It's all good. He wants to meet you in front of Orbital Lounge, middle of the day." His gaze shifted between them and Shepard glanced at the turian next to her. "So, if our business is done, I'll be going…"

Like a predator snapping up its prey, Garrus's arm shot out and grabbed Harkin's collar again, pulling him so they were face to face. "I don't think so. You're a criminal now, Harkin."

"So what? You're going to kill me? That's not your style, Garrus."

Shepard's eyes widened as Garrus brought the gun up and pressed it to the side of Harkin's head. The man went white and snapped his mouth shut as Garrus stared at him. There was no emotion in the turian's eyes—no hesitation or regret, not even joy or pleasure—and he clicked the safety off like it were the most natural thing in the world. "You don't know me anymore, Harkin," he finally whispered.

Shepard moved then, shoving the arm holding the gun up so the shot missed Harkin's head by a hair's breadth, and Garrus turned on her, livid. But she stood her ground, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin to look up at him. "You don't need to kill him, Garrus. You're better than that." She boldly met his gaze until he looked away, muttering his acquiescence, and she sighed. "Besides, he can't hide from C-Sec now."

Garrus grumbled something without looking at her, then turned his attention back to Harkin; the man was visibly shaken and flinched then Garrus addressed him again. "I guess it's your lucky day… Don't waste it."

"Yeah, I hope we can do this again real soon," Harkin snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words.

_Real smart, dumbass,_ she thought, shaking her head. Shepard turned and started walking away, not bothering to see how Garrus reacted; the man obviously had no instinct for self-preservation, to keep baiting a pissed off turian like that. _Hopefully he does the right thing…_ But she wasn't going to hold it against him if Harkin ended up mysteriously not-alive. Not this time.

Garrus watched her go, warring with himself. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to put a bullet through Harkin's smart mouth and be done with it but… That wasn't what Shepard wanted. And he knew there was a time when she had thought he was better than that. _Just like she told you when you went after Saleon… He isn't worth it._

He lifted the gun again and fired.

Shepard flinched then the gunshot rang out, heard Harkin's yelp of pain, and glanced sidelong at her friend when he came up beside her.

"You were a bit fuzzy on the area of kneecaps."

Well, he was right about that… And Shepard couldn't help but feel relieved that he had listened to her—he at least didn't kill him. She kept telling herself that the Garrus she knew was still in there somewhere, but now, she knew that he was at least listening to her, no matter how hidden he was. But… she couldn't help but wonder just how far he'd fallen since their time on the first _Normandy_. Would he still listen to her when it was Sidonis's life in his hands? Or had he just spared Harkin because his death didn't accomplish what he set out to achieve: revenge?

Garrus could see her unease as they headed back toward the Wards, watching her out of the corner of his eye. _You're pushing her away again…_ he thought dismally, _just like last time._ Last time… He'd yelled at her when his team had died and she'd left him; he'd deserved it and… _No, no, she wasn't there… That wasn't… That wasn't her._ They came to a stop in front of the rapid transit hub and he risked studying her while her back was turned to hail a cab. _That wasn't… That was your imagination. It always was. She was never there. She was never on Omega._ He raked a hand down his face and closed his eyes. _You imagined her. She never knew what you had done there… never knew _how _you did it… Well, until now._ He knew that he was falling back on the way he had done things on Omega… When he was still Archangel. _She's right, you're not Archangel anymore. You left that behind for her, so you could have her back… _That was true, but… he'd never thought he'd have the chance to avenge his team… He shook his head and followed her into the cab._ It doesn't matter now, not when I'm so close. Sidonis has to pay for what he's done._

* * *

Shepard laid her forehead against the window, watching the Citadel fly by as they headed toward the meet, and tried to take a deep breath. Tried, but the air in the small skycar was heavy and stifling, and she felt like her chest was being crushed. She wasn't sure where she stood with Garrus right now, but she was more worried about what he was going to do once they arrived. Would he go through with it, go through with killing the man he had once called a friend, who had betrayed him? Or would he surprise her again, and walk away like she wanted him to, show her that he was the same Garrus she had counted as her truest friend...?

"Are you sure about this?" she finally asked, turning to the turian beside her. He continued staring ahead and she chewed the inside of her lip nervously. "Will killing Sidonis really help?"

He finally looked at her then, but his eyes were focused star systems away, on the station where it had all gone wrong, she knew. "He betrayed me… my team… He murdered my squad, my friends." His voice cracked and he looked down at his hands, knotted together between his knees. "I watched some of them die. I saw what those gangs did to them… what Sidonis did to them." He was shaking now and Shepard could see the anger—no, this was blind rage—threatening to pour out of him. "I watched the consequences of his actions, I watched the people who trusted him—and me—die because he was a coward and sold us out. He doesn't deserve to live while they lie dead, Commander," he growled. He set his elbows on his knees and supported his crest with his fists. "He has to pay for what he's done."

She flinched, turning so her back was against the door of the cab. It was back to Commander again, a growing gulf of detachment yawning wider between them every time they spoke. Regret, guilt, and unrequited rage rolled off of him, threatening to choke her, but she kept her eyes on him. "Is that really what you think?" she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed and tried again, "Is that really what you believe?" Her voice was stronger then, more commanding. _Better. Don't back down._

His fist slammed into the side of the cab, making her jump, but he didn't see, didn't look at her. "How would you react if someone betrayed you?" he yelled, still facing the cab door—his voice may have been directed that way, but they both knew the words were aimed at her. His fingers flexed, the joints aching dully from where they had slammed into the metal. She sounded just like she had in his head, just like she had when he was still stuck at C-Sec, when he first got to Omega… when his team had been killed. _No, that wasn't Shepard… It was in your head._ And yet it was the same tone, the same disappointed voice that made him grit his teeth and wish he could be good enough for her. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that she didn't know—didn't know that he had imagined her with him, talking to him—he couldn't shake the feeling that she was rubbing his face in it. "How would you react to knowing you had gotten your friends killed because you trusted the wrong person?"

Shepard stared at him, lips pressed tightly together and breathing through her nose in an effort to appear calm. Inside, her heart was pounding. He was angry, yes, she knew that. But she had thought it was at Sidonis. Now, seeing him seethe, seeing him react so violently to her question… Was he angry with her? Had she really pushed him that far away by questioning his judgment? The only sound in the cab was their breathing for a time.

"I don't know," she finally murmured, looking down, "but I wouldn't let it change me."

A mirthless laugh sounded from her teammate and her gaze jerked back up. "You've already changed, Commander," he grumbled, "Don't forget, I was there on Omega. I saw you break a man's neck with your bare hands. Oh yes, Commander, I saw that. I saw the look in your eye. That wasn't the Commander Shepard I followed after Saren. You changed just as much as I did."

She flinched, studying her hands as she flexed her fingers into fists, but didn't say anything. He was right. Damn him, he was right. It didn't make it hurt any less; hearing him—her best friend, the person who knew her best—actually confirming that she'd changed, that she wasn't the same… That cut deeper than any disgust she could have inflicted upon herself. But she couldn't deny what he'd said. She had changed. _Yes, but I died. That's different_. It was an excuse, but she wouldn't—couldn't—admit that this change in him was normal. But… what if their places had been switched? What if he had died and left her alone? _That_ would have changed her… Was this all her fault? She scrunched her eyes shut and looked out the window. Whether it was her fault or not, she couldn't let him lose whatever was left of himself, whatever was left of the honorable, idealistic, good-hearted person that he used to be. The rest of the ride passed in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts, neither one willing to give voice to the swell of emotions running through them.

* * *

They stood side by side, staring out over the Orbital Lounge, and said nothing. They didn't look at each other, just stood there for a time; Shepard's arms were crossed tightly over her chest while Garrus scanned the catwalks above.

"So… What's the plan?" she finally asked quietly, still not looking at her partner. Tension made the tendons in her neck stand out and she flexed her jaw distractedly. She didn't like this; didn't like the possibility that Garrus would murder someone, didn't like the idea of helping, and didn't like to think about whether or not things would go back to normal. _What if this is normal, now…?_

"I'm going to set up on one of these platforms above. You just keep him talking until I can get a shot. Easy."

"Right… Easy…" She watched him go, wondering what happened to her friend who had hung on her every word like it was gospel. _What happened to make you so convinced that what we had agreed on… was wrong?_ He had told her he understood, when they spared Saleon, why it was so important to spare every life, even if they didn't deserve it. And yet, here they were, planning on killing someone who had wronged him in retribution; whether Sidonis deserved it or not, this wasn't justice. This was revenge. What had happened to her best friend? She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair, before starting into the lounge.

"There he is," Garrus's voice crackled over the comm and her eyes were drawn to a turian sitting alone, purple marks lining his mandibles. His shoulders were hunched and he seemed to bear the weight of lifetimes worth of guilt on his shoulders. Sidonis. "Wave him over, get him talking." She didn't want to do it, didn't want to be responsible for this man's life. _No matter what he's done, does he deserve this?_ But she did, signaling the turian to come over, wishing he would make her and leave. He didn't, instead walking over as fast as his feet would carry him.

"Let's get this over with," he sighed, looking down at her.

She tried to keep her expression empty, but her mind was running wild. Should she let him do it? Should she let Garrus do something she knew was not right, was not _him_? Her gaze briefly met Sidonis's before he quickly lowered his eyes again; but she saw the guilt. He knew what he had done. _He's the reason Garrus changed… The reason my best friend currently has a rifle pointed at the back of my head. He caused this…_Everything that he had done… She could see it all. It was written in his posture, in the way he wouldn't meet her eyes, in the dejected set of his mandibles. He looked truly despondent, guilt erasing the light from his eyes. She didn't want to feel sorry for him—he was the criminal, he was the monster that had hurt so many people—and yet she did. He was a shell, barely alive; just one look told her that much. Garrus's voice in her ear jerked her attention back to their current situation.

"Commander, you're in my shot. Move to the side."

Her eyes flickered to the side, tempted to look for Garrus, to look him in the eye, but she didn't. It was a split second decision, a gut reaction… but something just felt wrong about letting Garrus take the shot; it wasn't the morality of the situation that irked her so much. It was the burning question of what would become of Garrus if she allowed it to happen. Would Garrus be permanently replaced with Archangel? The goodhearted, caring ex-Cop who just wanted to do some good in the world replaced by the cold, ruthless, calculating vigilante? She stayed where she was, staring at the turian in front of her. "Listen, Sidonis, I'm here to help you."

Sidonis's eyes widened and she could feel Garrus's eyes boring into the back of her skull, but she didn't move. She was gambling that he wouldn't shoot her—she knew how precise he could be—but she couldn't let him do it. He was better than that. Her Garrus was better than that.

"Don't ever say that name out loud!" Sidonis hissed, grabbing her arm. She didn't flinch, didn't react; her gaze was level as the turian glanced about nervously. He knew it was his moment of reckoning; it was written on his face. He knew he couldn't run anymore.

"I'm a friend of Garrus's," she said quietly, "He wants you dead. But I'm hoping that won't be necessary."

"Garrus? Is… Is this some kind of joke?" He looked around again, but Shepard didn't move, didn't say anything else, just blinked and his expression fell. "This isn't… Oh… Oh Spirits…"

"Damn it, Commander, if he moves, I'm taking the shot!" Garrus growled and she could hear him click the safety off.

She must have paled because Sidonis suddenly looked terrified. "This isn't a joke… You're serious…" Again, she didn't say anything, squaring her shoulders and standing her ground in front of him; in all honesty, she was terrified. She didn't know how much she had pushed Garrus away. She also didn't know how far he would go to see this through. Shepard only hoped he was still there somewhere, underneath the Archangel cover. Sidonis didn't seem to share the same blind faith that Garrus wouldn't shoot, though. "Screw this; I'm not sticking around to find out! Tell Garrus I had my own problems." He made as if to go and Shepard's hand shot out, grabbing him by the shoulder and spinning him back to face her.

"Don't move," she snapped, tightening her grip when he tried to pull away. She could have let him go, could have let Garrus shoot him and be done; the bastard deserved it. Even if he hadn't been directly responsible for the deaths of Garrus's squad, he was the reason Garrus changed. He was the reason her best friend was gone. Garrus _had _changed and she didn't like what he was becoming; and every decision he made, kept dragging him further and further down that path. He was slowly becoming just what they had been fighting from day one: a cold and callous killer. She wasn't going to let him turn into that.

"Get away from me!"

She scowled and let go, but jabbed a finger into his chest. "I am the _only thing_ standing between you and a hole in the head," she hissed, glowering. _Coward. Selfish, useless coward. _If he was just going to run away… Maybe she should let Garrus finish him…

But realization seemed to dawn on him that there was no escape and he hung his head. "Fuck."

"Yeah, Sidonis, fuck pretty much sums it up," she mused sarcastically.

"Look, I didn't want to do it. I didn't have a choice!"

Garrus was the one to respond this time, "Everyone has a choice." She cringed at the malice in his voice—and she could tell Sidonis had heard it too, from the way his eyes widened—but stayed where she was. She could feel Garrus's scope floating over them, over her, and suppressed a shiver. Being at the other end of that gun… She had never thought that she would be here. Her eyes lifted to the turian in front of her, pinning him to the spot, daring him to respond. He did.

"They got to me! They said they'd kill me if I didn't help them! What was I supposed to do?" He sounded desperate, his voiced pleading… almost like… Like a man begging for his life. Was that what Garrus's men sounded like before the mercs ended them? Did they beg? She doubted that—doubted that they would stoop to that level, considering none of them were the ones currently on the opposite end of Garrus's crosshairs. They had stood by Garrus, while Sidonis hadn't. _Coward. Fucking coward and traitor._

_Now you want to be treated like a person? Now? After you turned over your friends like animals for slaughter…?_ Her lip curled in disgust. _This_ was the same turian that had joined Garrus—Archangel—on Omega to take on the three major mercenary groups in the terminus, to fight injustice? Her jaw clenched, fists shaking at her sides. That was it? That was _it_?! That was why her best friend in the galaxy had all trust in the galaxy crushed out of him and why ten good men were dead – all so one bastard could live?!

"Let me take the shot, Commander, he's a damn coward!" Garrus yelled at her.

For a second, she considered it. He had sacrificed the lives of his friends to save himself. He had turned Garrus over to those gangs. He had killed her best friend and replaced him with this… this person she didn't know.

_And then what does that make you? Maybe Garrus is right… Maybe you did change,_ part of her mind grumbled, _Go ahead. Be that person Garrus seems to think you've become. Prove him right. __Prove it's alright to kill in cold blood—be the embodiment of what you told him was wrong, be what you told him not to be before you died._

No. No, she wasn't like that… She wouldn't be like that. She couldn't. No!

Sidonis made as it to pace across the room and she moved with him, keeping herself between him and where she knew Garrus was watching him from. "That's it? You were just trying to save yourself?" she spat, brows furrowing. If she was going to save his sorry ass, he had better prove he deserved it, though she really doubted he had any decent reason. She was still trying to sort out her thoughts, but she couldn't bring herself to allow Garrus to simply kill him, no matter how much he seemed to deserve it. Not without at least hearing him justify what he'd done. She only hoped he had a better answer than what he'd already said.

"I know what I did!" he all but screamed at her, spinning to face her and pointing an accusing finger at her. "I know that they died because of me! And I have to live with that. I have to see them every night, every time I close my eyes… And then I wake up, sick, knowing that they suffered… that it was my fault." He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, the vision of misery. "I see them, staring at me… accusing me…"

"Glad I'm not the only one…" Garrus growled. "But that doesn't mean he deserves a second chance." _I didn't get a second chance; I didn't get a second chance to save them. You stole that chance from me. You stole their lives from me._

"Come on, Garrus, he's miserable," Shepard hissed into the comm, turning her head to see a glimpse of his blue armor on the catwalk behind them.

"So am I!" He was shaking, the crosshairs trembling over his commander and the man who had destroyed him. This couldn't happen… Sidonis couldn't be allowed to go on living… "I see their faces, too, Jane," he whispered, voice rough as he ground the words out, "begging me with their last breaths to avenge them. I watched them die." He took a breath. "He doesn't even understand the damage he's done. He didn't even see what his cowardice did to them."

Shepard opened her mouth to reply, but Sidonis cut her off, "Just let him do it, I'm already a dead man. I don't sleep. Food has no taste." He hung his head and Shepard could see it was true. He looked eerily similar to how she had felt before finding Garrus on Omega. Food hadn't appealed to her, sleep never came, and all her thoughts turned to her death and her failings. "Some days I just want it to be over…" he finished, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, like he was steeling himself for his own, inevitable demise.

"Just give me a chance…"

Maybe it had been that Sidonis seemed to finally show some regret for what he had done, or maybe it had been because she knew Garrus was hurting more than he was angry, but she didn't move. "You've got to let this go, Garrus," she said quietly, "He's already paying for what he did. And I'm not going to let you kill someone in cold blood. You're better than this, and you'll have to live with yourself if you do it."

Garrus's grip on the rifle tightened, trying to find a way to shoot around her. "He hasn't paid enough. He still has his life." It didn't matter what Sidonis said, what kind of sob story he cooked up and fed to the human woman currently in his scope; he was still a murderous traitor, and he deserved to pay for it. His squad deserved justice. _So why in the hell doesn't she understand that?!_ Shepard just stood there, defiant in his crosshairs, daring him, almost, to disagree with her. Damn her, why couldn't she just let him have this? Why was it so hard for her to forget her Spirits-damned moral compass for two seconds and let him finally have some peace? _Just over her shoulder… I could get a shot off and take him down. _It was awfully close, though… _Well, she's got cybernetics. A little graze won't hurt for more than a minute,_ he reasoned, shifting to adjust his position without taking his sights off the pair below him. It would just be a graze at worst. She would forgive him, eventually… And if not, well… She was already cross with him. Maybe this was just the way it was going to be. But he couldn't let Sidonis just walk away. He shifted again, searching for an opening, and his hand brushed over the rough patch just above the trigger, making him freeze. _Jane Shepard_, painstakingly etched into the body of his gun. Suddenly, he felt like he was going to be sick. _You would shoot your best friend… All for some sense of closure. The person who saved you twice, and tried to teach you mercy… And you would shoot her. _He was disgusted with himself, ashamed. _I'm no better than Sidonis…_ And who was he, then, to act as the long arm of justice when he was just as… no, worse than the man he was standing in judgment of. He could never forgive Sidonis, could never understand trying to justify what the other turian had done, but it was shame—not mercy—that made him lower his rifle. "My men deserved better," he growled, trying to convince himself that he could do it, needed to do it, but he knew it was a lost cause. Sidonis would walk out alive.

Shepard turned slightly, giving him a window of opportunity to look at her, to meet his gaze with her own, but it was Sidonis who spoke up, "Tell Garrus…" He sighed and shook his head. "I guess there isn't anything I can say to make this right…"

"Damn right there's not," Garrus barked, standing and replacing his rifle in its place on the back of his shoulder. "Tell him to get out of here, Shepard, before I change my mind." He didn't stay to watch the man who had betrayed him—who had betrayed his team—walk away; his feet were carrying him back to the skycar as fast as he dared without drawing suspicion.

Shepard watched him storm off the catwalk and turned back to Sidonis, a scowl pulling at her lip. There was no way to finish this in a way that would make her feel that the mission had been a success. Sidonis deserved to pay for what he'd done—there was no excuse for sanctioning the murder of ten of one's friends—but she couldn't let Garrus take that shot. It had just seemed… wrong, like taking that shot was the final step in his transformation, and once it was done, the Garrus she knew would be gone forever. No, it was better this way, even if she hated herself for it... even if he hated her for it.

"You're probably the luckiest sack of shit on the whole damn Citadel," she spat, glaring daggers at the turian in front of her. "If it were anyone else standing here, you'd be dead. Hell, I even almost let him kill you."

"I… I'll make it up to you somehow, and to Garrus. Thank—"

"Let's get one thing straight," she interrupted him, fire burning in her eyes. "I didn't do this for you." No, she had done this for Garrus, the young, idealistic Garrus that had charmed her with his vision and dream of a perfect, just galaxy. And this mother fucker had killed him. _You did this to him. You murdered your friends, and destroyed the only person in the galaxy that I trust._ Sidonis seemed to want to say more, to defend himself or insist that he would be better, but the way she was looking at him seemed to make him rethink that choice. Instead, he gave a curt nod and turned to go, but Shepard grabbed his arm. Surprise showed in his face when he turned to face her again, but it was quickly replaced by fear as she pulled his head down so it was level with hers. Her expression was blank, but her eyes were murderous and it was becoming clear that she had not spared his life out of the goodness of her heart. "You can never atone for what you've done, Sidonis. And you can try to live with that, but I want you know that you didn't just murder ten people—ten people who trusted you, and called you 'friend'—on Omega. You murdered my best friend that day, too. That isn't Garrus anymore. Whatever you did, he's gone. My best friend is dead, because of you." Her voice was a venomous whisper, but Sidonis withered like she had screamed it at him. "Nothing you can say can convince me that you deserve this second chance. You are only alive because Garrus is a far better man than you and I am praying that somewhere deep down, he knows that." He opened his mouth to say something, but she acted before the words could get out; her fist made solid contact with the side of his face and he felt to the floor, clutching a bleeding mandible. She planted a foot on his chest and leaned down to whisper again. "If I ever see you again, a broken mandible will be the least of your problems, do you understand me?"

Sidonis nodded frantically and Shepard sneered, standing and stalking away before she could do anything drastic. She could see Garrus standing beside the skycar, and everything about his posture screamed that he was looking for someone else to kill. _You knew this would be his reaction… And it's not un-justified. You just stole what he saw as his only chance at peace. _She took a breath as she finally reached him, readying herself for the onslaught. _It was the only way to save him from himself._ Even if she told herself that a thousand times, it wouldn't make her feel any less guilty.

"I know you want to talk about this, Commander, but I don't. Can't… Not yet," Garrus finally said, not looking at her. The same guilt, anger, and animosity were visible in the tension in his muscles, the tightness of his expression, and Shepard cringed internally. Nothing had changed, nothing was better. Hell, it was probably worse.

She wanted to say that it was for the best, that time would make him see that it was the right thing, but she didn't believe it. If it had been for the best, wouldn't Garrus feel better? Wouldn't she feel better? Maybe it hadn't been her place to make that decision… maybe… _No, it was wrong and you know it. And even if he never understands, even if he never forgives you, at least you know you stopped him from doing something he would forever regret. _She nodded her head in response to his statement—though, he still wasn't even looking at her so she doubted he saw it—and gestured toward the car. They entered in silence and rode in silence, letting the white noise of the engine fill the space as they rode back toward the _Normandy_. But Shepard couldn't help but steal glances at the turian beside her. Who was this man so full of hate? Who was this person that she could only recognize because he wore her friend's face? It was Garrus she saw, but this man… This wasn't Garrus. Was there any way to undo what had been done, or was that Garrus—her Garrus—really dead? The thought made her chest tighten and she forced her eyes to focus outside of the car, on the Citadel whizzing past. _Maybe he'll come around… Maybe he'll have gotten it out of his system once we're back on the _Normandy. _Just like with Saleon…_

A part of her didn't believe that. _If you were in his place, would you?_

No. She would have done the same thing… Hell, standing over Sidonis, she had almost done it; for a split second, she had considered gunning down the spineless traitor, but she hadn't.

No, all she could do was hope that somehow, everything would right itself.

* * *

**I really want to hear what you guys think of this chapter, more than any of the other ones. So, Feedback! Do it!**


	20. Chapter 20

**I apologize from the bottom of my heart for how long this update took! I'm working two jobs and it's absolutely ridiculous how much time that takes up. So, to make up for it, I have an extra long chapter for you (please forgive me). I can't promise prompter (more prompt?) updates, but I will promise that I will try.**

**And HUGE thanks yous to Greenyoda987 for kicking my butt to get this chapter done (for reals, she's awesome). I would never write anything if she didn't keep pushing me to write more. I would write you a beautiful ballad of love and thanks, but I can't sing.**

* * *

Optimize firing algorithm 2.47a through section 8.01d, cut off emissions from port 56… Error messages started flashing and Garrus growled at the screen, talons ticking across the surface. Redirect commands through backdoor protocols, bypass redundant command matrices and… The errors seemed to multiply and he grit his teeth angrily. He'd holed himself up in the battery in an effort to avoid any contact with Shepard, but she always came looking for him; so, he had started feeding her some line about being in the middle of calibrations or something that sounded equally technical and attention-consuming. Usually, it was a lie. Usually, he just thought. But after the tenth time she'd come, he had decided he needed to actually do some work. The errors flashed plaintively and he closed the program, resetting the system to remove the now-useless code he'd tried to integrate.

He couldn't talk to her, not yet. She would want to talk about what had happened on the Citadel—about Sidonis—and he… couldn't. It was too raw, too fresh. His hands clenched around the edge of his console and he bowed his head, trying to hold down the bubble of anguish that threatened to choke him. Nothing had been resolved; that traitor still had his life, his team was still dead, and he still felt guilt trying to shred him from the inside out. Who was she to force him to choose between her life and justice? How dare she bully him into making the decision she wanted him to make, the decision _she_ thought was right? She had _no_ idea what Sidonis had done; she didn't realize how much he deserved to die, how much it _needed_ to be done. And she'd just stood there, challenging him to defy her. And he couldn't… He forced his eyes closed and tried to take a deep breath. He'd never been able to defy her, even when she'd laid her wisdom on him like a sledgehammer of truth. Damn her! She knew it, she had to. The way she'd calmly stood in his crosshairs, confident that he wouldn't shoot… She had to have known the effect she had on him.

_You were happy to see her alive, before, _part of his mind reminded him,_ So happy it made you want to live again. Why is this different? Why is _now_ so different; why do you not want to speak to her now? You've always been grateful to follow her. Why is this different, when she's still just trying to guide you the same way she always has?_

He lifted his head slowly, staring through the battery without really seeing it. It was true, he mused. On Omega, seeing her striding down the bridge… She looked like the spirits of his team reincarnated. An answer to a half-hearted prayer he had never imagined would be answered. He wasn't one for metaphysical musing, for wasting time contemplating the divine and unknowable, yet the possibility that he had witnessed the Spirits interceding was… Well, he couldn't just ignore it. His team wouldn't let him give up—especially not to just throw his life away in a glorious last stand. No, it made sense that their spirits would have returned to drag his sorry ass back to where he belonged: by her side. A rueful smile tugged at his mandibles as he thought about it. He had known Shepard was… different. Different was an understatement, but she had always possessed an indomitable strength and magnetism. The small part of him, deep within his chest, that still believed in such things couldn't help but think of her the embodiment of everything valued in turians: courage, selflessness, strength, and tenacity in battle. She was the ideal… Of course he would follow her any chance he got. But that didn't mean he understood her, and certainly didn't mean that she understood him.

Didn't she know what he had lost to Sidonis's betrayal? She'd lost Ash on Virmire; he'd lost ten people—people he was close to, that he'd come to rely on—on Omega. The loss she felt losing one was a fragment of what he felt knowing he had left his team to die, and yet she had just expected him to accept her gospel and walk away without a second thought. No, he couldn't do that. His team deserved better than that; they deserved justice. Sidonis deserved to pay.

He shook his head and reopened the console's troublesome code fragment; it was a hollow attempt to distract himself. His hands moved, fingers filling in the commands and conditions while his mind wandered far away. He had been so close… He should have taken the shot over her shoulder. Even if it grazed her, at least the bastard would have paid.

_Would shooting her really have been worth it?_

The thought repeated itself over and over again and he could almost see the words running before his eyes like a marquis. His hands froze and he felt a tremor run down his spine. He had seriously considered taking the shot, had started tightening his finger on the trigger… He had been ready to shoot his best friend. The realization settled like ice in his stomach and he felt his throat tighten as he pushed away from the console again. His footfalls echoed in the small space as he paced back and forth, mind churning. He could try to justify it all he wanted—and Spirits, did he want to—but the conclusion was always the same: he had almost shot the only person in the galaxy he trusted. Had trusted. Now…

_Even if she was wrong, she's still your best friend. And you put her in danger._

Garrus growled, leaning over the console again; it was true, he had, but that didn't mean he liked admitting it. He always yelled at her for putting herself in danger, but now… _Now you were the reason she could have died._ His posture slumped visibly under that knowledge and he struggled to take a deep breath.

He could hear the door control beeping as the mechanism opened and he forced his body into practiced nonchalance, pretending to be engrossed in the console in front of him.

Shepard stepped into the battery slowly, eyes locked on the turian's back as he ignored her arrival. The same way he had the day before… The same way he had for days… She swallowed, shuffling her feet as she tried to force some courage into her voice.

"Have you got a minute?"

It came out sounding desperate and pleading and she mentally cursed her lack of spine. But she waited, not saying anything more, praying for anything but the same retort he'd fed her for days…

"Can it wait for a bit, I'm in the middle of—"

_Damn your calibrations._ "No, it can't." Now there was steel in her tone. Now she was in command. But, despite the stern tone of her voice, she knew that her strength only ran skin deep; she missed _her_ Garrus. She missed her friend that smiled whenever she came down, that talked to her about any and everything… That had thrown his arms around her as soon as he saw her, that had trusted her without proof or promise… She took a long breath, trying to clear the despair from her mind. "Samara has a mission on Omega, and I want you on my six. You know the station better than anyone."

"Take Mordin. He was on Omega longer than I was." His reply was emotionless, distant to the point of being cold.

"He rarely left the clinic once he arrived. You know the streets, the places Morinth will try to hide." He glanced over his shoulder and she could see that he was going to feed her some bullshit and refuse. Her brow lowered and she spoke before he could, "I'm not asking, Garrus. I'm in command, and I'm telling you that I need you on the ground team." She never pulled rank—when she asked him to come, he would always agree—but she was tired of the way he was avoiding her. Oh no, she was done dancing around his mood. They had a mission, whether he liked it or not, and that meant getting over whatever hostility and resentment he felt towards her.

Garrus turned just enough so she could see the scarred side of his face and grunted. "Fine. Come find me when we're ready to dock." His back was to her again before she could say anything more and she resisted the urge to sigh in exasperation.

"Right… Yeah. We should be there in a few hours." When he said nothing more she left, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to stave off the headache she could feel forming.

* * *

The tension as they stalked through the docking bay on Omega was palpable and stifling; Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that Garrus was glaring daggers at the back of her neck—petty, but she couldn't blame him. As angry as she was with the way he was reacting to the Sidonis situation, she knew that he had trusted her to help him and she had, in his mind, turned on him. She didn't expect him to understand right away, but she had at least hoped he would _try._ This was just ridiculous.

"We should find Ms. T'Loak. She would know if there is an Ardat Yakshi on her station," Samara said, filling the growing silence. If she noticed the veiled unease within their small shore party, she gave no sign. Shepard nodded her agreement, steering them toward Afterlife. Garrus eyed the dingy, badly-lit corridors skeptically, shoulders hunched forward as he followed. He hadn't been back on this damn station since Shepard had dragged him back from the brink of death.

_She saved you. She came to Omega to save Archangel before she knew it was you because she thought it was the right thing to do. You know she's only ever done what she thought was best._

_Well what she thought was best was wrong this time. He sidestepped a dancer as they entered the deafening club. She doesn't know everything. It needed to be done._

Aria's voice drew him out of his thoughts as the queen of Omega smirked up at Shepard from where she reclined on the couches. "Shepard. Always a pleasure." The sarcastic sweetness in her voice made him scowl, but Shepard didn't react.

"Aria. We're looking for an Ardat Yakshi named Morinth. We have information saying she's here."

The asari's brow furrowed and her lips pressed together in an expression of concentration tempered with anger. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and, when she spoke again, it was laced with contempt. "Ah yes. That would explain things. Nothing leaves a body as… empty… as an Ardat Yakshi does…" She looked back up to Shepard as the human raised a brow.

"Explain."

Aria chuckled, settling back onto her figurative throne. "A girl was murdered last week. Pretty little thing…"

"And you didn't try to stop her?" Shepard's control of her emotions was beginning to fail and the queen smiled deviously; it was an expression that made the entire ground team's skin crawl.

"Why? She didn't try to seduce me. Omega has no law, Commander. Murder isn't something we investigate, otherwise nothing else would get done. Oh, don't look at me like that, Shepard. You're perfect little world of right and wrong won't survive out here in the Terminus Systems. Best get over that now."

Shepard's eyes narrowed and she shifted, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't need to tell Aria that she'd already had her experience with that; the thought left a bad taste in her mouth, that there hadn't been a "right" and "wrong" with Sidonis, that she might not have made the best decision… Maybe the morally correct decision, but what was morality worth when it left a person hollow, a shell of what they used to be? The way it left Garrus... There was no life left in his eyes; it was like her decision to thwart his revenge had made whatever was left of him shut down. The spark had been snuffed out. She took a steadying breath, focusing on the asari in front of her. "Where was this girl from?" she finally asked tightly.

"Oh no, Shepard. Information is never free. Quid pro quo." Aria seemed far too gleeful about this idea and Garrus instinctively made as if to move closer, to guard Shepard's back, but stopped himself when the asari's gaze settled on him. "Don't worry, handsome. I won't hurt her. I merely have a favor to ask."

"Cut to the chase, what is it you want, exactly?" Shepard spat, fingers flexing against her arms.

"I have an… advisor, of sorts. Certain Blood Pack mercenaries have conspired to have him killed, in an effort to get back at me for thwarting their attempt on my life—thanks, by the way—and I want you to make sure he stays safe. Move him to a safe house." Aria glanced away and Shepard could have sworn there was something in the expression—worry?—but it was gone when the asari looked back to the Commander. "I can't be seen protecting him or I appear weak. And, since we already know the gangs wouldn't mind taking me down, I need someone else to do it. And since you're just prone to random acts of kindness..." Her sly smile was back in place again. "So?"

Garrus blinked, eyes flying between the two women. Shepard had saved Aria's life? When? And _why_? He felt his blood burn the longer he thought about it. Was this a new habit of hers, sparing murderers?

"Fine. I'll help you. But then you owe me that information, Aria." Shepard fixed the centuries-old asari with a dark glare and Aria simply laughed.

"Of course, Shepard. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Patriarch is in the lower club, probably surrounded by his fans."

Shepard nodded and stalked off, Garrus and Samara trailing behind. If she was honest, the idea of Aria scratching her back was terrifying—too easy for the woman to bury a knife between her shoulder blades—but she quickly pushed the thought away. She had to deal with Patriarch now so they could find Morinth later. Joy.

The pounding music was quieter in the corridor leading to the lower club and Garrus finally found his voice, "Why help Aria?"

Shepard had to try very hard not to do a double-take when he spoke, forcing herself instead to shrug calmly. "If I'm going to be flying around the Terminus saving the galaxy, I don't want the queen of it all suspicious of me. I'd rather be on her good side, if she has one." She risked a glance at her friend and smiled a little. "Besides, I wouldn't have found out about the plan to attack her if you hadn't riled the gangs up."

He nodded slowly, looking away from her. It made sense, but it still didn't explain helping her. Aria had killed more people than anyone else on the station—her throne was soaked in the blood of her enemies—so why let her live?

Shepard sighed, "Garrus, don't think about it. As bizarre as it sounds, Aria keeps Omega in line. There's no law, but there is Aria. If the Blood Pack, or Eclipse, or Blue Suns had taken over, everyone on this station would be dead from the civil war within a week. At least with Aria, it's only those too stupid to keep their heads down that die." She rubbed the back of her neck absently as they headed into the side room Patriarch was supposedly holding court in. "I'd rather deal with her than the likes of Tarak."

With that, he had to agree. "I guess. I still don't like it." He had been planning the best way to target Aria when Sidonis had betrayed him; the asari was either the luckiest bitch in the galaxy, or her power over Omega was that absolute. _I __am__ Omega._ That was her catchphrase, of sorts. Maybe it was true… He had thrown Omega into upheaval—thrown her rule into chaos—and Omega had thrown him down in reprisal. He hated his damn station.

The krogan was in the middle of telling his enrapt audience the best way to intimidate an enemy when they approached and Shepard stood at a respectful distance, hands clasped behind her back. Krogan, she'd found, had more respect for courage and confidence well-earned than flattery; so, the best way to talk to Patriarch would be to treat him like anyone else. The old krogan turned, scanning the three of them with an appraising eye before zeroing on Shepard.

"I don't think I know you, human. I'm Patriarch, Aria's Patriarch." He said the second part like it hurt him and scowled. "What do you want?"

Shepard raised a brow curiously—there didn't seem to be anyone who didn't recognize her on sight, not that she was complaining—and let her arms relax, settling into her hip out of habit. "An odd title; how'd you get it?"

He sneered. "It was Aria's little _joke_ after she took me down and stole Omega from me. Like an asari matriarch, only male." He scoffed, pacing a small circle. "She let me live to keep me around as an _advisor_… More like a trophy. An example of why she is in charge and not I." He seemed to grow introspective for a moment before shaking his head and fixing her with a dark stare. "Why?"

"Rumor has it some people want you dead. Any idea why?" Shepard asked, meeting the ancient krogan's stare with one of her own.

Patriarch grunted in acknowledgement. "A few. I know things—secrets, grudges, the like—but not enough to warrant a murder." His expression darkened and he scowled. "But someone wanting to weaken Aria would come after me. Of course… I don't matter enough to be targeted myself; it would merely be a method of getting to her." Shepard could almost smell bitterness rolling off him in waves—or was that just the good old Omega smell?—but said nothing. "I'm not important enough to have any enemies of my own."

"Well, I've been asked to move you to safety," Shepard started, stepping forward, "So we really should—"

"Oh of course," the krogan sneered, dripping with sarcasm, "Aria wouldn't want me _hurt_. It would make her look bad. So she sends her little puppet to do the work for her to avoid attention." Shepard's eyes narrowed slightly but the krogan continued, shaking his head, "But perhaps Aria's _reputation_ is no longer my concern." His eyes flashed and Shepard could see this was going to get difficult. "Perhaps I will stay, see just who thinks me important enough to kill."

_Of course._ Shepard groaned inwardly; nothing was ever simple, no one could just make her life easy and let her do her job. Damn it. But she needed Aria's approval to get the information she needed on Morinth. That meant getting this stubborn old krogan to work with her. Which meant she needed to convince him to listen. _What would Wrex say?_ A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. Headbutting the old man was out of the question—Aria would probably have her head on a platter as a centerpiece—but maybe there was another way… He was old, angry. He wanted what he had before Aria had taken it from him: power, prestige. How did krogan get that? "How about this, let us deal with the assassins for—"

"And so your name would grow while I remain an old man who lets others fight his battles!" the krogan interrupted angrily, gesturing agitatedly with one hand before pointing an accusing finger at her.

"No," Shepard snapped, batting his hand out of her face, "You remain a powerful warlord with forces at his command, not just Aria's trophy." When the krogan said nothing, Shepard added, "Isn't a heavily armed and highly skilled krantt just what a thriving warlord needs?"

That made Patriarch perk up and he studied her anew, expression pensive. "My krantt… Yes. You could be my krantt, fighting for my honor! You understand, human." He grinned and Shepard nodded. "If you would do this for me, I would be grateful. I might even be a krogan again!" His expression grew wistful and Shepard looked away; best not to tell him she was only helping him so, in turn, she could get information from Aria. "Do what you will with the assassins, but make sure they know you fight for me, not the asari."

Shepard nodded, gesturing with a nod for her squad to move out. As the door slid closed behind them, Shepard let her posture slump, pinching the bridge of her nose as she let out a sigh. Samara gave her a gentle smile and touched her shoulder.

"Your intentions are good, Shepard. Even if it does not feel like it, it was the right thing to do." The calm and certainty in the justicar's voice struck Garrus and he looked down at his feet. Was she actually right to lie to the krogan, to manipulate him just so she could get what she needed? Shepard could have simply forced Patriarch into hiding, been honest with him—she was well-armed enough—but she had used him to get what she wanted, by offering him something that would appease him. Why was she so quick to kill these assassins for someone she didn't even know, but she refused to let him—her _friend_—kill the one person who deserved it the most. She'd do it for Patriarch. Not for him. She had lied to him, promised him that she'd help him… and she hadn't followed through_. Even if it does not feel like it, it was the right thing to do…_ Was it? Were her other decisions just as… just? Had her decision to spare Sidonis been the right thing to do? _No, this is different_, he told himself, _deceiving Patriarch to get what she wanted is different than sparing Sidonis_. No, it hadn't been her own needs she was taking care of when she had promised to help him; they were _his _needs. And then she'd gone back on her word and spared the man who so rightly deserved to die, just so her own conscience would be clear. No; these were totally different situations. She may have been right to manipulate Patriarch… but she was not right in sparing Sidonis.

Shepard nodded towards the justicar. "I know, I know. Come on, let's go find these assassins and get this over with." They fell in behind her as they headed for the nearest exit. How they were going to find these assassins, she wasn't sure, but—

"Out of our way, human."

Well, that was simple enough. She eyed the two krogan—their faces were covered by helmets and they toted modified shotguns threateningly—and placed herself directly in their path. "You here for Patriarch?" If she was still unsure of what they were doing, there was no hint of it in her voice; her tone was casual, almost begging them to say yes. There was a glint in her eye that made Garrus smile inwardly; she wouldn't hesitate to kill them, at least.

"What if we are?" came the challenging reply—Shepard was reminded of a petulant teenager—as the krogan took a daring step forward, "You gonna do something about it?"

Blood Pack, Shepard mused, must have taken a hard hit after their assault on Archangel if _this_ was what passed as assassins. She let her eyes wander casually around the small corridor, not bothering to look at them as she spoke, "Patriarch sent us, said to do whatever it takes." A devilish smile flashed across her face. "I can be very imaginative."

The sentence made the krogan falter, sharing a glance with his counterpart and Garrus couldn't help the satisfied twitch of his mandibles; Shepard was frightening when she wanted to be, and unassuming when she didn't. But the way she was leering at the thugs in front of them, she was in the perfect mood to be terrifying.

"You're Patriarch's krantt?" The second krogan seemed to have found his tongue and tried to sound unbothered. "I didn't know the old man had one."

"You should have done your homework," Shepard purred, cracking her knuckles in that distinctly human way that made every other species flinch. It was barbaric, and effective. The krogan panicked, whipping their weapons up and training them on the human woman. She dropped down into a low crouch as a puff of fire—since when did they make flamethrower mods?!—flew over her head. She could smell the ends of her hair burning and grimaced; without thinking, she pivoted and threw her foot into the first krogan's stomach, staggering him. Garrus had already drawn a pistol and fired off three shots before the thug could regain his balance, sending the hulking alien to the floor. Shepard rose, wiping splatters of blood from her cheek and turned to engage the second assassin, but found him struggling—held in midair by the glow of biotics—as the air was forced from his lungs. She grimaced as he thrashed, noting that the same mass effect field holding him up had filled his mouth and, more likely than not, his lungs as well. Finally, he stilled and the justicar let his body drop with a decisive thud. For a moment no one said anything, all sharing a significant look before they headed back into the club.

"They were awfully close to the club," Garrus finally pointed out as they walked. Samara nodded her agreement; if they hadn't been there, Patriarch might have already been dead.

"Well, it's good we got there in time then, isn't it?" she replied, trying to seem casual. There really wasn't much else she could say. Killing themselves over what-ifs and could-haves was pointless; it was better to move on and be done with it. If only she could make Garrus understand that…

Patriarch was waiting for them when they returned, grinning. "I heard the gunshots and, since it's you standing here and not a pack of thugs, I assume you've killed them." His eyes sparkled and Shepard nodded, trying and failing to hide her own smirk. She liked krogan—straight forward and uncomplicated—and Patriarch was just like any other: he liked killing and he liked being seen as powerful. "And now everyone knows that the Patriarch is not to be crossed!" He laughed and paced a small circle again, clenching and unclenching his fists. "And thanks to you, Aria may think of me as more than just a trophy—a real advisor, maybe, or even a threat!"

Shepard managed to hide her skepticism at that possibility, but smiled. "Maybe. She could use a little humility. Maybe take her down a notch or two."

"Or ten." The krogan chuckled and met Shepard's gaze with his own. "Thanks to you, I am a krogan." The gratitude in his tone would have been impossible to miss and she couldn't help but smile. Grunt had said the same thing after she had helped him with the rite of passage, and it's significance wasn't lost on her. But as she turned to go, the old krogan stopped her. "Be careful, with Aria. She'll approve of what you've done—I think—but not of shifting the balance of Omega."

"Oh, trust me, if that's what she's worried about, this is the _least_ of her worries," Shepard replied, risking a playful look over her shoulder at Garrus, but his expression shared none of her amusement, his eyes focused elsewhere—anywhere but on her, it seemed—and she huffed out a breath as she turned back to Patriarch.

"Regardless, I think you remind her too much of herself. Tread lightly."

Shepard thanked him quickly before leaving, raking a gauntleted hand through her hair as they headed back for the main level of Afterlife. She did _not_ want to spend any more time than absolutely necessary dealing with the self-proclaimed boss-CEO-queen of Omega, and yet here she was, voluntarily giving that crazy woman what she wanted. Shepard grit her teeth and eyed the bar meaningfully, pausing midstride as Garrus and Samara passed her. They seemed to realize at the same time that she was no longer with them and looked back as she rapped her knuckles on the bar to get the batarian bartender's attention. If she was going to deal with her Royal Bitchness and Garrus's evasive bullshit, she needed a stiff drink, even some strange, alien stiff drink.

Garrus sighed—of course she would want a drink at a time like this, of course she would draw this damn mission out to get him out of the battery—and crossed his arms waiting. Something in the back of his mind told him that there was something wrong here…

Shepard lifted the drink served to her to her lips and knocked it back in one swallow, sliding the glass back with a nod. Two steps were as far as she made if before her vision started to blur, numbness spreading from the top of her head down through her body. Her throat refused to work as she tried to swallow—to breathe, anything—and something felt like it were trying to burn through the lining of her stomach. She had one thought before she collapsed: _Fuck._

Garrus let out a yell, moving only an instant after Samara did to their fallen Commander's side. Of course, how could he have forgotten the _fucking_ bartender?! A steady stream of self-abusive curses flowed through his brain as Samara pressed her fingers to the side of Shepard's neck—searching for a pulse, he was sure—and he prayed that for once the poison didn't work; it had never failed, but he could still hope. A few patrons were staring, murmuring amongst themselves about the likelihood of getting their hands on her gear and Garrus snarled, hoisting her limp form up in his arms and stalking out of the club. _Since when was she so light?_ There was a relatively low-traffic alley somewhere around here…

* * *

Shepard's vision swam when she opened her eyes, two sets of mismatched blue eyes staring back at her. Oh, no… Wait… one set. And one was a visor. She knew those eyes…

"Give her space, let her breathe," someone said. She blinked and the eyes were gone, replaced by a human man's face as he helped her into a sitting position. She waved him off and put a hand to her head as the blood pounded in her ears.

" 't happ'n'd?" she mumbled. Her tongue felt swollen and clumsy as her equilibrium slowly but surely began to adjust. The roar in her ears began to quiet and she became aware of a low growling beside her. Lethargically, she swiveled her gaze to the source and found Garrus staring at her, eyes wide and mandibles twitching in obvious concern; this was the Garrus she knew, that she had been missing. A smile crinkled the corners of her eyes as she swallowed and tried again, "What happened?"

"It was my fault, Shepard," Garrus said quickly, looking away with some shame, "I should have warned you about the bartender." She had brought him along because of his firsthand knowledge of Omega, and he'd been too busy brooding over why he was angry with her to keep her safe. _You put her in danger again._

"The bartender…?" Her brow furrowed as she carefully tried to stand. Garrus gripped her arm and supported her until she had regained her balance; though he released his hold on her, he remained close to her side. "Did he try to poison me?"

"Try being the operative word," the unknown human said. He smiled sadly. "As far as I know, you're the first person to survive it." He eyed her skeptically as she swayed, but when she didn't fall, he said nothing.

Shepard swallowed again, trying to dispel the gritty feeling from her mouth and throat; her head ached and her body felt like she had run a marathon in full armor. "He's done this before?" she asked, her brow furrowing even further. She had assumed that if the batarian had poisoned her, it was because he had recognized her as Commander Shepard. Not just because she was a random human that had happened to walk, unwittingly, into his bar. If he'd been doing this before… How many people had already died because of him—because there was no law on Omega? _No more._

Garrus could already see the gears turning in her head; her calculating expression was very familiar. He barely resisted the urge to carry her back to the Normandy and lock her in her cabin until she could be rational. _Like that's ever going to happen._

"That batarian bartender? Yeah. He's got a stick up his ass about a bunch of batarians that died a while back, blames humans. No one does a thing about it, though." The man looked away and continued, "My friend Jake and I went back there to celebrate and… Well, I ended up with a hangover, and he ended up puking blood."

The fire was in her eyes again and Shepard fingered the grip of her pistol. "Thanks for the warning," she said carefully, "We'll be sure to keep it in mind."

"Yeah…" the man said, casting a sweeping look over their party, "Good luck…"

Shepard turned back to her team and Garrus scowled. "Shepard, you can't be—"

"Yes, I am, Garrus," she replied, meeting his eyes defiantly. They remained like that for a moment, sizing each other up, and Garrus finally sighed, gesturing for her to do as she wished and she nodded. Inside, she was grinning; this was closer to normal. _And all it took was nearly being poisoned to death._ She led her squad back toward Afterlife's lower bar, heading straight for the batarian bartender. When she approached, mouth set in a grim line, he tilted his head slightly in mild surprise. _Gotcha._ He recognized her.

"Do I know you?" he asked when she stopped in front of the bar, staring at him without saying anything. His nervousness was covered by the flange of his voice, but Shepard could see the uncertain shift of his multiple eyes as she gazed back at him. "No, no, you humans all look the same. Here! Have a drink, on the house."

Shepard straightened and eyed the glass disdainfully. Garrus and Samara took up their positions at her flank, casting wary eyes around the seedy club as their commander confronted the bartender. "What do you think these people will do when they find out that you're poisoning your customers?" she asked darkly. There were some murmurs from nearby patrons as their attentions focused on the encounter and Shepard smirked, raising her voice. "Oh come on, you didn't really think no one noticed you were poisoning people, right?"

"Poisoning what now?" a turian bar patron asked, leaning on the counter beside Shepard. Garrus diverted his gaze from the increasingly-agitated batarian to study the barefaced turian carefully. He didn't remember the man from his time on Omega, but that didn't mean anything; Archangel had only dealt with the more egregious criminals.

"This has nothing to do with you!" the batarian yelled, and Shepard held down her smirk.

"What's next? Turians? You don't like them either, do you?" she asked, gesturing to the newcomer.

"Answer the question, Forvan!" She could see the turian's brow lower and the batarian sputtered. _Bingo._

"You want a piece of me?" the bartender cried, drawing a gun, "I'll leave your corpse for the vorcha!"

The next two seconds felt like they were happening in slow motion; Garrus stepped around Shepard, pushing her behind him, Samara's fists blazed blue as she prepared an attack, and the unknown turian drew his own sidearm and fired in a flash. Shepard blinked after it was over, the batarian now slumped on the ground behind the bar. Garrus was still firmly planted in front of her and she reached up to pat his arm as she stepped around him, placing herself in front of the other turian, studying him anew; she felt Garrus stiffen as she passed him, assuming that he was still shaken up from the brief firefight. "Nice shot."

"Thanks. Couldn't take any chances." When the gun was stowed, he held out a hand. "Name's Ogrinn."

"Shepard," she replied, shaking the offered hand. Recognition lit up his eyes and he nodded slowly. Garrus's eyes narrowed, a low growl rising in his chest; he didn't trust the barefaced turian, and he didn't like the idea of Shepard getting friendly with him—which he knew she would because that was what she always did. Why did she always have to trust everyone? No one on Omega was completely good and innocent—this turian was certainly no different than any other patron in this bar—so why was she so casually accepting his hand, standing so close to him?

"_The_ Shepard, huh?" Ogrinn said, obviously intrigued. His mandibles twitched into a smirk and he continued, "You know, I've got a mate and a ship, but I only brought one of them with me to Omega."

Garrus stared, dumbfounded at the blatant and casual proposal, and tried to tell himself that the possessive growl that escaped him was because he wanted to keep Shepard safe, not because he was jealous. No, that wasn't it. Right? Deep down he knew that yes, yes it was. Before they had gone to the Citadel to find Sidonis, they had—albeit jokingly—discussed… relieving some stress. _She probably wants nothing to do with you now… not that she could have ever really wanted that with you… That all seems so long ago…_

Shepard only laughed, turning away from the bar. "Well, I'm sure your ship will be fine whenever you get back to it. Enjoy the time with your mate." With that, she headed back toward the stairs leading to the main level, and Garrus was sure the surprise on Ogrinn's face matched his own.

_What just happened?_

He recovered only a second later and followed after Shepard and Samara. Had Shepard really not understood the insinuation? Or had she, but she was just trying to let him down easily since she just didn't want _that_ with him because he was a complete stranger? Or… because he was _turian_? But she had seemed so nonchalant about the whole exchange, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary… Maybe she had just missed his intent… But, how? _His subharmonics couldn't have been more—_Oh. Humans didn't understand them. Right… Spirits, no wonder he couldn't figure her out; she didn't understand his subharmonics, and she didn't have any to help communicate with him. _Just one more thing different about you. _With a grimace, he realized that they had been at each other's throats for days and—if she had been turian—it would have been resolved as soon as they'd returned to the ship—either in the ring or in a bed—but communicating would have also been easier. There wouldn't have been this glaring misunderstanding between them; even now that he realized it, her thought process was still unknown to him. _You know you're in trouble when you can't even understand your best friend._

Shepard mentally swore up and down as they mounted the stairs to Aria's "throne". Assassins were one thing, but being poisoned and hit on was _not_ part of the deal. "I did your damn dirty work, Aria," she growled, crossing her arms and settling into her hip.

"Yes… You did…" the asari replied, raising a brow, "Word is that Patriarch's krantt took down the Blood Pack assassins. Funny, I didn't even know he _had_ a krantt."

Shepard scowled; her head hurt, her body hurt, and Aria was playing fucking _games_? "Yeah well, he's more powerful than you think," she snarled.

"Indeed… I guess I'll have to watch my back now." Aria smiled and nodded toward the couch beside her, a silent invitation to sit. Well, order more than invitation. Shepard grudgingly obeyed, setting her elbows on her knees to study the self-proclaimed queen of Omega. "We had a deal Shepard. You helped me, now I'll help you." She settled back in her own seat and continued, "There have been a few deaths, that pretty little human girl was the most recent. She lived in the apartments not far from here. If you head over there, you might be able to find out more." Aria tilted her head to smile at Shepard. "That help?"

"Plenty. Thanks," Shepard replied tightly as she stood. This woman knew that an Ardat Yakshi was on Omega and had done nothing; she had let the murders keep happening, and now she was using Shepard to clean house. Shepard was not a fan of being used. She took a few steps to leave before Aria's voice stopped her again, making her fists clench against the rush of frustration that hit her.

"Don't be a stranger, Shepard. And you should see about finding a nice young man to warm your bed, maybe help you loosen up." Garrus glared, a low rumble emanating from his chest and Aria laughed. "Rumor is that Archangel is still alive. Maybe find him, since you two are so similar." That silenced Garrus and Shepard turned on the asari, rude reply bubbling on her lips, but snapped her mouth shut as she thought better of it. Instead, she stomped down into the club and headed for the apartments, hoping that the asari didn't know of Archangel's true identity… or if she did, that she didn't care.

* * *

The apartment was small, dingy, and reeked of mildew and decay; the woman pacing the foyer when they arrived took one look at them before her face lit up with hope. "Are you here about my daughter? My Nef died over a week ago, but no one's done anything about it." Her eyes were pleading, begging that someone—anyone—would help her and, now that three well-armed soldiers stood in her home, she had a chance. Shepard felt her heart break at the emptiness apparent in the woman's face. "The medics said it was a brain hemorrhage but that's not true! It was murder! Someone killed my Nef, my baby!"

Shepard relaxed her stance, forcing her frustration with Aria and Omega as a whole out of her mind; now, she needed to deal with a distraught and mourning mother. "I think she was murdered too. And I'm here to stop the person who did it."

Surprise showed on the woman's face and she stepped forward, grabbing Shepard's hands. "Oh thank you! It's so… hard when no one believes you!" She paused then, studying the band of soldiers. "Are you… Aria's people?"

Shepard could feel Garrus and Samara watching her as she dealt with the mourning woman, but betrayed none of the disdain she had for Omega's ruler. "I'm here to help. Who sent me doesn't matter."

That seemed to be enough for Nef's mother and she nodded. "No one on this hell-hole station gives a damn that my Nef is dead," she replied, bitterness creeping into her words, "If you can do something about it, I'll help you however I can."

Garrus studied the human woman curiously. This was the kind of person he had come to Omega to help—poor, helpless, and at the mercy of Omega's scum—and here he was, back again. _And so is Shepard._ He mulled that thought over for a moment. Shepard had always been one for helping the helpless, the downtrodden… She fought for the underdog. _Just like you._ His attention shifted to Shepard as she gave the woman's hands a gentle squeeze.

"I understand this is hard for you, and I'm so sorry for your loss, but would you mind if I took a look around Nef's room?" Shepard's tone was gentle and kind, and the poor girl's mother sighed wearily.

"I didn't want to disturb anything… Her clothes, her art, her sculptures…" She took a shaky breath. "Everything is exactly the way she left it. The way it will always be…" The tears started then, streaming down the woman's worn face and her voice broke, "My baby's gone… Nothing will change that…"

Shepard wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. She knew how it felt to lose family—at least, she thought she knew; an unknown yet familiar ache of sorrow stabbed at her heart and she had to force down a steady breath. They were feelings more than actual memories, but her body's response to the woman's pain and loss felt so real; her gut clenched when an image floated to the front of her mind: her parents dying, their bodies cast about like garbage... Was that… real? Did she remember that? Crying… she remembered crying, begging her parents to get up… It was all so vivid in her mind at that moment, she could almost feel the tears on her cheeks, the burning in her throat. In that moment, she knew how it felt to lose the only people in her world. Were these actual memories? Or, just… her mind latching on to anything she thought she recognized, anything she thought felt familiar.

"Thank you," the woman finally said, stepping back as she wiped the tears from her eyes, "I'm sorry, I just miss her so much." Shepard could only mutely nod, distracted by the shift in her thoughts and her team didn't miss it; Shepard was someone who was usually on top of all situations, so seeing her so absent-minded caught their attention.

"It is alright," Samara cut in, when Shepard failed to respond, "We have all suffered loss."

Garrus watched Shepard as she ran a hand down her face, trying to divine the source of the haunted look that shadowed her expression. What was she thinking about? And why did she suddenly look so… hopeless? Her eyes were distant and he could see her lips forming words, but she made no sound.

Shepard stepped back, trying to force herself out of the sudden, harsh feelings and memories, but they wouldn't leave her. Fear, sorrow… Despair. They all gripped her as she remembered—she knew now her memories were real; the familiar colors and places… Yes, these were real. She remembered how it felt to lose her family, to see them lying dead after the slavers had left. Her hands began to shake and she clenched them into fists as the scene played out, over and over in her mind.

_Get up, Daddy! Please, get up! Mommy! Make him get up! Get up!_

Her lips moved, but she stopped herself from repeating the words.

_Get up. Get up. Please get up, John!_

Samara glanced at Shepard as she continued, "I know how it feels to lose a daughter. I will avenge her."

"Thank you," Nef's mother said, wiping away the last of her tears, "Please, if it helps you find her killer, look through Nef's things."

"We will be respectful," Samara replied with a grateful nod.

Shepard was still obviously occupied with her thoughts and Garrus laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping to break her out of her trance. She jumped, blinking and quickly began assessing what had been done while she had been lost in the past. "I… I'll… I'll examine her things," she replied distractedly, turning away quickly and ducking into the girl's room. Garrus and Samara followed as she moved blindly through the clutter. Statues, most half-finished, littered the shelves and sketches and papers covered sections of the floor. Datapads and empty bottles were stacked in precarious piles and a holojournal was settled atop the unmade bed. Shepard knelt beside the bed and began accessing the journal entries as Samara examined the statues and notes on the girl's desk. They needed clues, the sooner the better; and she needed to focus on the mission at hand rather than worry about her distant memories.

Garrus waited by the door, noting the tension in Shepard's face as she listened to Nef's private thoughts. Something was off… He couldn't place it, but he could see that her mind was no longer on the present. He took a step forward, intending to ask her about it, but she tensed reflexively when she saw him move towards her in the corner of her eye and he stopped. _That's your own fault… _ He knew that he shouldn't have expected things between them to have been fixed so easily—especially after he had confessed to knowing about the bartender after doing nothing to stop her—but it still hurt. Yet the stab of guilt reminded him of the reason they were still at odds: she had ruined his chance at closure, forcing him to live with another guilt that continued to weigh on his conscience. The anger returned—though it was now muted—and smoldered, hot and angry, in his gut. _She can sympathize with this woman, but not with me? She's willing to hunt Morinth down, but not Sidonis?_ Why was this woman's pain more relatable than his? Why did Sidonis deserve a second chance and not Morinth? How could she justify letting Sidonis live as the "right" decision when she was going to do the opposite to help Samara? How could she do this to him?

His thoughts were interrupted as Shepard stood slowly, shutting down the holojournal. "Samara, do you have a plan?" she finally asked quietly, running her hands through her hair; she looked exhausted.

"This is definitely Morinth's work. She is attracted to creators, people with a spark, isolated from their peers." The justicar shook her head and sighed, gesturing around the room, "She impresses with sophistication and sex appeal—the vids, the art, the drugs—and then she strikes… The hunt interests her as much as the conquest."

Shepard's brow furrowed and her eyes flashed to the asari. "Anyone who has successfully hunted sapient beings for four hundred years warrants caution. How exactly do we stop someone like that?"

"Morinth speaks to you on many levels," Samara replied, "Knowing her strategy will be the beginning." When Shepard didn't stop her, she continued, "Her body tells you she'll bring unimaginable ecstasy, her scent evokes emotions long hidden… Her eyes promise you things you were always too afraid to ask of another, her voice whispers to you even after she is done speaking."

Garrus scowled. "She sounds like the perfect predator." He didn't like where this was going.

"Garrus is right; Morinth seems to be the perfect trap, not a genetic defective." Shepard crossed her arms tiredly and held Samara's gaze with her own. "How do we stop her?"

"I vote we find her hidey-hole and blow it to hell," Garrus grumbled darkly. At least then he would get to kill _someone._

"Storming her den would be a mistake; she will have a hundred escape routes planned. She would go to ground for fifty years, or more!" The justicar took a careful breath before she continued. "This is the closest I've ever come to catching her…"

"So we lay a trap," Shepard said simply, the gears in her head beginning to turn again. Garrus made a choking sound that drew her attention, her brow arching in a silent question.

"You can't be serious, Shepard, you heard what she's capable of!"

"No, the Commander is right. Afterlife's VIP section seems to be her preferred hunting ground." Samara turned to Shepard. "You must go there alone and unarmed."

"She'll come after me," Shepard concluded quietly, ignoring the disbelieving look Garrus was giving her.

"Yes. You have the spark she craves. You are an artist on the battlefield, and you radiate strength and power. She will not be able to resist you."

"Hold on just a minute," Garrus interrupted, glaring at Shepard, "You're going to willingly walk into Afterlife—without a weapon or back up—to try to trap an asari who has perfected her ability to seduce and ensnare people before she kills them?! Shepard, have you lost your damn mind?!"

"What other choice do we have, Garrus?" she snapped tightly, "Either go in there or she just keeps killing. I'm going in, and that's final."

"Not without back up you're not!" he growled, stepping forward so they were face to face. Well, face to carapace, but she glowered defiantly up at him.

"This isn't open for discussion!"

Garrus ground his teeth together, trying to keep from grabbing and shaking her. Didn't she understand that putting herself in the direct path of eminent death wasn't the way to save the galaxy?! "Shepard, what if something happens? What if Morinth gets a hold of you? If you're alone, I can't save you."

Shepard noted that he had said "I" rather than "we", but let it slide. She wasn't sure when he had stopped resenting her—if he had at all—and become so overprotective again, but she was done trying to follow his mercurial mood. "I can handle myself, Garrus. An armed squad would attract her attention and then we'd lose her."

"Like we lost Sidonis?!"

Surprise painted Shepard's face and she stepped back like he had struck her. "Is that what you think?" she asked quietly, expression dark, "That we 'lost' him?"

"Isn't that what happened?" he replied, exasperation slipping through. Samara put a restraining hand on his arm but he shook it off. They were going to talk about this now. They needed to. "How is killing Morinth any different from killing Sidonis? Why let him go and not her?"

"Because Sidonis hasn't been killing for four hundred years! Because he wasn't going to go out and kill anyone else! Oh, don't look at me like that, Garrus, you saw it and so did I. He wasn't a serial killer. But Morinth is. Morinth will just keep killing people until someone stops her or she dies in another dozen centuries. If we stop her tonight, we could save hundreds of lives; killing Sidonis would have saved no one." Shepard forced her fists to unclench and swallowed heavily. She could feel her throat tightening, her eyes burning with a threat of tears, but she refused to let him see. Not when they had a mission to complete. She could wallow in her misery in the privacy of her own quarters; Garrus certainly didn't need to see how much the Sidonis mission and his attitude towards her was affecting her. No, they would have this conversation back on the _Normandy_ after she'd had a chance to compose herself; her emotions were still too raw—from the confusion over her reemerged memories and from the stress of the mission—to have this conversation now. "We can discuss this back on the ship, after our mission is complete. Until then, we follow Samara's plan. Understood?"

Garrus opened his mouth to refuse, but Samara cut him off, "Perhaps there is a way that the plan can be made safer. If Officer Vakarian would like to provide overwatch—out of sight, in the rafters of the club—then I do not see the harm. Hopefully, it will not come to that, but if it will give some reassurance…"

"Fine. That work, _Officer?_" Shepard replied tightly, venom coating her words.

Garrus's mandibles twitched as he held in the wave of frustration threatening to get loose, but nodded. "Perfect."

"Good. Back to the _Normandy_. We'll regroup and head for the VIP club once the night cycle starts."

* * *

Shepard sat in her cabin, staring blankly at her private terminal without seeing the messages scrolling by. She didn't like this plan, but there wasn't anything she could do to change it; this was their only option. It wasn't the unarmed and alone part that bothered her, or even that Samara would be outside—out of sight and reach—but that Garrus would be watching from above. With his sniper rifle. Again. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine as she remembered the feeling of those crosshairs on the back of her neck on the Citadel. He was obviously still upset about letting Sidonis go… Could she trust him to watch her back? What if he was angrier than she thought and…

_No, no… He wouldn't… He wouldn't kill me…_

Would he? He had killed two Blue Suns mercs over her shoulder without hesitation; if he'd been even slightly off, _she_ would have been the one lying dead in the warehouse.

But he hadn't taken the shot when she had been standing between him and Sidonis; that had to count for something. Right?

_Does it? You haven't talked since. Except for the fight you just had. What's to stop him?_

She shuddered again, but forced her attention to the holographic screen. There was only an hour before the team would regroup and head for the club…

Her doors slid open and she spun, drawing a gun from where she always kept a pistol hidden on the underside of her desk—open door policy or not, she didn't like being snuck up on. Kelly and Jack both held their hands up, but where Kelly looked alarmed, Jack only laughed.

"Relax, Shep, we're just here to check on you. Ready for your night at the club?"

Shepard scowled and laid the gun down, eyeing them both suspiciously. "As I'll ever be… Why?" Ever since their journey to Pragia and the destruction of the Teltin facility, Jack had been much calmer, more human, almost. The bald biotic grinned and swaggered into the captain's quarters, looking around appreciatively. When she looked up at the collection of model ships Shepard had been building, she whistled.

"Obsessive, much?" she teased, earning an indignant look from Shepard.

"What do you want, Jack?"

Kelly stepped forward and managed a cheerful smile. "Actually, we wanted to offer some advice on your wardrobe for tonight."

"I don't need help, Kelly," Shepard replied pointedly, crossing her arms, "I'm already dressed."

Jack scoffed, "Please, Shep. Those damn Cerberus fatigues don't exactly scream 'I'm looking for a good time'. Where are the rest of your casuals?" The younger woman pulled open a drawer of the small dresser beside Shepard's bed and scowled. "Do you seriously not have _anything_ else?"

"I kind of died, Jack. You know, when my ship exploded? All of my stuff was there," Shepard snapped, still not getting up. She was not letting her yeoman and a psychotic biotic bully her into a makeover. Nope. Not today. And Kelly seemed to sense it, changing their tactic.

"Commander, your mission entails attracting the attention of an asari who has hunted people for centuries. Don't you think you need to stand out a little? Especially if you want to stop her tonight." The young yeoman smiled when Shepard turned her glare on her. Oh, she knew just how to get under Shepard's skin… Damn psychologist. "I suggest letting us help you so you can improve your odds of success. And I promise we won't hurt you."

"Much," Jack added with a grin. "I'm sure the Cerberus cheerleader has something you can use." The biotic left and Kelly chuckled quietly.

"Well, now that she's gone… Shepard, please try to relax. You've been on edge from day one, but especially so since we left the Citadel." Shepard's expression darkened and Kelly held up her hands. "It's none of my business, I know. But your well-being is. A person can't thrive under constant stress and you've taken on far more responsibility than anyone should. And don't even get me started on your health. You've been avoiding Dr. Chakwas; when was the last time you ate?"

Shepard looked down and laid a hand over her stomach absently. "Ration bar yesterday morning," she admitted sheepishly and Kelly let out an exasperated huff.

"First of all, those are only supposed to tide you over until you can get your hands on real food; Gardner has been cooking some pretty impressive meals since you acquired better provisions. Second of all, you need to be eating once a day at the bare minimum, three times if you're being reasonable. EDI says your hardsuit has been adjusted to fit multiple times since you came aboard. Eat. If you continue to lose weight, then you won't stand a chance against the Collectors." The yeoman's gaze softened and she laid a hand on the commander's shoulder. "Your crew is worried about you. I know you don't trust Cerberus—and based on your past experience with them, I understand—but we want you to succeed, and we want to help you." She glanced over her shoulder and Shepard's gaze followed; they could hear the elevator making its way back up. "If you want to talk, I'll listen, and anything you tell me will stay between us. Nothing will go back to the Illusive Man or Miranda. Right EDI?"

Shepard wasn't surprised when the AI's blue interface blinked to life; of course she was listening. "That is correct, Shepard. I do not record Yeoman Chambers's sessions with any members of the crew. You can be assured that you will be no different."

"Right…" She wasn't convinced, considering the fact that EDI had been—and always would be—listening, but she understood the sentiment.

Jack bounded back into the room carrying a stack of clothes and wearing a decidedly unnerving grin. "Fuckin' jackpot. Barbie was out so I snatched some stuff that'll make you look smokin', Shep."

"Don't steal Miranda's clothes, Jack," Shepard chided half-heartedly and Kelly stifled a giggle.

"Bitch wasn't wearin' 'em anyway, why does it matter? There's not enough fucking Cerberus paraphernalia on 'em. Come on, Shep, get dressed," Jack replied, tossing the pile at her. Shepard caught them and scowled; she thought about refusing for a moment, but Kelly gave her an encouraging nod. Maybe they were right… And it wouldn't hurt to get out the Cerberus uniform for once… She stood and stomped into the small bathroom, intent on making it clear this was not going to be a regular occurrence. "And when you're done, Chambers can do your make up!"

"That wasn't part of the deal!" Shepard yelled through the door as she peeled the Cerberus fatigues off. The night was starting out as more than she'd bargained for. Damn this stupid idea…

* * *

The _Normandy_ was mostly quiet, save for the intermittent beep of the flight controls and Joker's muted mumblings to himself. Garrus slumped further against the wall of the airlock, agitation showing in the rhythmic tap of his talons against his armor. He was struggling with the maelstrom of emotions that had unleashed themselves upon him; anger, frustration, fear, confusion… they all took their turns wreaking havoc on his calm. How could she just toss him aside like that? Yes, Morinth is a serial murderer. Yes, she needed to be stopped. But that didn't mean Sidonis didn't deserve to die as well! Sure, she was being logical, but… Damn it, didn't his feelings matter? Didn't his concerns deserve to be heard?! She helped every other member of her crew with every other little task they needed done, but when it came down to the one thing he needed, she refused. Why?!

_You're not Archangel anymore, Garrus._

She kept saying that, and he knew it. But that didn't mean Sidonis didn't deserve to be dealt with in Archangel's customary fashion. So why was that so hard for her to understand? He didn't hate her—he was angry with her, yes, but he could never hate her—he just wanted to understand. He wanted _her_ to understand. And letting her go into Afterlife alone scared him—almost enough to drown out the anger and frustration still aimed at her. What Samara had said about Morinth… How could Shepard think it was safe to walk into that alone? What if they couldn't get to her in time? What if Morinth got into her head too?

Why did the possibility of losing her bother him so much?

Seeing her collapse in the bar… Seeing the bartender's gun pointed at her… He knew his feelings about her hadn't changed—she was still more important to him than anything else in the galaxy—but he had forgotten just how strong those feelings were under the weight of his anger. Damn him for being blind. He had pushed her away, and into the arms of people like… like Ogrinn. His skin burned under his plates as he thought about it; how could someone so… so insignificant even think they had a chance with Shepard? _Why do you think _you_ have a chance with her?_ Well, because… Because he had thought he had known her… Because they both thought they had known each other… Because they had both confessed to an attraction, of sorts. Was that still true? He didn't know. He wasn't sure about anything right now.

Joker swiveled in his chair as footsteps approached. "Hey Commander, are you—Well hello…" he trailed off, letting out a whistle. Garrus broke out of his thoughts and his mouth went dry. Shepard strode forward, scowling at her pilot as she cocked her hip out and crossed her arms.

"Give me a reason not to break all of your fingers, Joker," she growled.

Garrus couldn't help the tremor that ran down his spine; her distinctly human lips were painted red and the way they wrapped around the words did wonderful things to his insides. _No, no, focus._ Shepard hadn't seen him in his place beside the airlock and he took the chance to stare. Outside of armor, Shepard had always worn combat fatigues but now… This was much better.

"Aw come on, don't be like that! It's a compliment!" Joker grinned, eyes blatantly roving over her body. "You could give Miranda a run for her money dressed like that!"

Shepard raised a brow and rolled her eyes. The clothes Jack had stolen were not Miranda's usual outfit; the vest clung to her torso and stopped just below her waist, leaving her stomach and lower back exposed while the neckline plunged down to expose an ample expanse of her chest. The trousers were tight and fit low on her hips, just below her hips bones, and tucked into the knee-high heels boots that her Cerberus XO was so fond of. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious, Shepard, you're smoking." Joker ducked her half-hearted swipe and laughed. "Even if you're still packing heat."

Shepard shook her head and flipped open the holster on the gun belt she wore. "Empty. Can't go in armed."

"Well, you're still hot."

Shepard scoffed, resisting the urge to rub the mascara from her eyes—Kelly had already threatened that if she ruined the smoky make up, then she'd just look like another Omega junky looking for a fix. And while she appreciated the slight boost to her ego Joker's attention gave her, she also knew he wasn't exactly picky in his praises of women. But after being dragged across the galaxy beside the "perfect woman"… Well, it had never bothered her before, but now… "Seems like you're the only one who thinks so or cares to notice," she said, sounding slightly downcast; Garrus immediately wondered why she sounded so upset about this, but wasn't given the chance to ponder it further as he heard Joker call his name, shocking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, that's such bullshit. Garrus! Weigh in on this, will ya?" Joker replied, turning his attention to the turian. Shepard followed his gaze and Garrus shifted away from the wall, knotting his hands behind his back.

"I… Uh, you…" Damn it, he felt like a fool. But faced with his best friend—and, before recent events had conspired against them, potential bedmate—dressed in what had to be the most alluring way possible, his mind was blank. He should have said something poetic about how she looked strong and confident, how her eyes were like gems and pierced his soul, or how the boots did fantastic things for her legs. And her _waist_…

"Good, you are ready," Samara said as she arrived, interrupting his inarticulate ramblings.

Shepard shrugged, absently covered her exposed stomach. "As I'll ever be." She sighed, risking another glance at Garrus, but he was staring pointedly at the floor beside his feet. "Right, well… let's get this over with…"

* * *

Afterlife's VIP section was just as suspicious and off-putting as the rest of the club, Shepard decided as she stepped in. Samara had warned her about being alone—save for Garrus's presence overhead—and had given her a crash course in Morinth's do's and don't's. She liked violence and strength, she liked skill at navigating clubs, she liked risk and danger. She would ignore modesty or chivalry, and she would ignore unprovoked violence if Shepard started a fight unless it was in defense. Shepard couldn't help but think that if this asari was so particular, it was a wonder she had any victims at all. _Focus._

She didn't like being as exposed as she was. Really, this was more skin than she had bared since basic and the clinging fabric of what little clothing she was wearing didn't have the reassuring weight of ceramic armor. Her hand settled on the obviously-empty holster at her hip, itching to touch a gun she didn't have; she didn't like this.

"Hey!"

Shepard spun, trying to brace her stance in the ridiculous heeled boots, but the human man who had stopped her didn't try to restrain her. She tried not to scowl at him as she slowly relaxed.

"You know where I can get tickets to Expel 10? They're going to be in concert and I heard this_ amazing_ asari say they were her favorite band and… I gotta find tickets! I just… I just want whatever she wants!" He glanced around as if looking for her and Shepard followed his gaze. Would she be able to recognize Morinth on sight?

"What kind of music do they play?" Shepard asked loudly over the music, still searching for any sign of the Ardat Yakshi.

"They're a _sensory_ band; they get inside your head and make you feel things!" He grinned. "This asari digs them hardcore and if I get tickets I could score _way_ outta my league! You gotta help me!"

Shepard ignored his supplications, still searching. The asari he was describing sure sounded like it could be Morinth. The drugs and club music… A sensory band seemed right up her alley, complete with mental shenanigans. "Where is this asari?" Maybe she could head Morinth off and get her out of the club before anyone else had to get involved…

"I dunno. She's here a lot though, so if I can get tickets before the next time she's here, I'll be in!"

"Well, I don't have tickets, so if you don't mind?" Shepard moved as if to leave and he grabbed her arm.

"If you find some, I've got creds for ya."

Shepard jerked her arm free and started toward the center platform of the club where dancers gyrated to the pounding beat. Morinth seemed to already have at least some influence over the people here… Maybe no one would notice her if they were too busy trying to impress the lethal asari. That thought made her relax a little, put a little more swagger into her walk, as she moved through the club. Now, how did one attract the attention of a violent-minded killer?

"Come on, baby, I can pay. I got creds…"

Shepard's eyes flew to a turian talking animatedly with one of the dancers—a dancer who did not appear pleased with the situation—and drew closer.

"We can go back to my place; I've got simple tastes," the turian drawled, tracing a talon up the asari's arm. She shoved him away with a sneer.

"Back off asshole, I'm a dancer not a hooker."

The turian chuckled darkly. "You've got a mouth on you! And I'll love watching you put it to good use…" The asari stepped back, fear replacing her scowl and Shepard stepped between them.

"I'm pretty sure she told you to get lost," Shepard said tightly. The turian was almost as tall as Garrus and it made her rethink interfering; she had no weapons and she couldn't use her biotics without outing herself. Okay, so she might be in trouble…

Garrus watched from above, scope pressed to his eye as the scene began to unfold. Shepard planted herself between the turian and the dancer, and he could feel his heart stop. Damn her, what was she thinking? She was unprotected and unarmed; why would she think this was a good idea. _Suicidal bravery or not, there are better ways to get Morinth's attention!_ He clicked the safety off and lined up a shot on the turian as he took a step toward Shepard. Garrus couldn't make out what was being said, but the lewd jerk of his hips and the way he stared at Shepard gave away enough of the scumbag's intent, and Garrus wasn't about to let some asshole look at Jane that way.

_Wait a minute, wait a minute. She's not yours, remember?! You're fighting!_

Right… Well, still.

The dancer took a fearful step back as the turian advanced on the human woman, but Shepard stood her ground, making Garrus grit his teeth at her stubbornness. _I swear if you get yourself killed…_ But he needn't have worried. Shepard sidestepped the turian's reaching hand, pushing his arm down and driving an elbow into his face. The turian recoiled with a grunt, wildly swinging at her, but Shepard flowed around him like water; a hard punch snapped his teeth together and a quick kick sent him sprawling to the other side of the dance floor. When she straightened, Garrus could see that Shepard was completely calm, smiling at the asari as the dancer—presumably—thanked her. _Well… Maybe she can handle it._

Shepard watched the dancer return to work, waiting until the asari was a safe distance away to look down at her knuckles and grimace. Cybernetics or no, punching turians hurt. _Damn plating…_ It was a good thing, she mused, that she and Garrus hadn't come to blows. Yet. Oh, shit, Garrus… She glanced around the ceiling before turning her attention back to the club. She'd almost forgotten he was watching from… wherever he was. Not knowing where the shot would come from scared her a bit more than knowing the gun was aimed at her. _Focus, focus._ She plastered a bored smile on her face and journeyed further into the club. What next, what next…

"Lot of money on display here tonight…"

Hmmm… That could work.

"Not so loud. We'll hit it later, in the alley. Just need enough to keep Hink off our backs…"

Shepard strode forward, stopping in front of the two thugs and they both looked up.

"Sorry, sweet cheeks, but we're not buying tonight. Find customers somewhere else," the first said and she snorted.

"I'm not a hooker, _honey_," she all but purred, setting her hands on her hips. The two turians exchanged a look before turning their eyes back to her.

"Okay, then what do you want, human?"

"You. Gone," she replied bluntly, "I'm not going to sit here and let you shake people down." Now the two turians stood, but she held her ground. "Now, either you sad losers can leave, or I can make you."

The second scoffed. "And who exactly do you think you are, toots?" Again, she found herself being towered over, but didn't move. Instead, she laughed.

Garrus stared in abject horror as Shepard confronted the two turians. _Oh Spirits… What the hell is wrong with her?! _ He groaned and settled his crosshairs on one of the two thugs as they glowered down at her. Her shoulders shook as she laughed and he could feel his blood begin to burn; the frustration he felt with her for neglecting her own safety came back in force and he found himself struggling to stay where he was and not rush down there and drag her out of the club. Screw the mission, it would be a failure if she got herself killed in the process. His time in C-Sec had taught him a little about reading lips and the threats coming from the two turians made him shudder. _Damn you, Shepard._ And then she seemed to think better of the whole thing, pulling out a credit chit and holding it in front of their faces. Her back was to him, but the surprise on the thugs' faces said enough about what she was saying; they had expected a fight and she was instead going to pay them off. They stammered and Shepard practically threw the chit at them before jerking her head toward the door. Garrus could feel his heart pounding against his ribs as he followed the thugs to the door with his scope before swinging back to Shepard. She hadn't moved, staring after them with an inscrutable expression on her face.

Shepard watched the two turians go and let out a sigh of relief. Maybe confronting them hadn't been wise, but paying them off had worked; as long as she didn't have to punch any more scaly aliens. She flexed her still-healing knuckles absently. Yeah, no more punching…

Did paying them off count? Would that still get Morinth's attention? She'd stayed calm, didn't back down, and diffused the situation without too much trouble… She swung her eyes around the room, still trying to catch a glimpse of the Ardat Yakshi, but no one stood out. _I don't even know what I'm looking for… What if she's one of the dancers?_

Shepard stepped over to the bar, accepting a glass of what she assumed was some fancy asari liquor and downed it quickly, trusting it wasn't poison; the bartender was human so she felt safe in her assumption. Plus, she hoped—desperately wanting to believe—that Garrus wasn't that angry with her, to not warn her about any other angry bartenders on Omega… A krogan stood not far off her left and she paused. _Violence… No, Samara said I can't start fights. Shit._ She accepted another drink, paid, and started around the edge of the club again. _Come on, Morinth, where are you…_

Someone grabbed her arm and she froze, turning her head slowly to stare at the man gripping her bicep. With a sound like a kicked varren, he let go and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, I just don't know who else to turn to. You're human and you're not high, so I need your help," he stammered, wringing his hands.

"Slow down," Shepard snapped, crossing her arms as she turned to face him, "Help with what?"

"I… My friend, Moirall… She's doing a piece on Omega's gangs and she's undercover, hanging with Florit. He's the worst of the worst," the man said quickly, glancing toward the opposite side of the club, "But I think he's on to her. I intercepted a message to his gang telling them to splatter her! You've got to help!"

Shepard followed his eyes toward a table where a man and woman sat, her brow furrowing. Garrus had never mentioned a Florit, but if this girl was in danger… _Morinth can wait._ "Alright, but how do you expect me to help? If he's as bad as you say, he'll know something's wrong if I just drag her off."

"I know, I know. Look, we have a code. If you say 'terminal' and 'eternity', in that order, she'll know. But it has to be in that order! Just work them into a sentence."

Shepard sighed. "Really? Alright, I'll do it." _Of course it's the most awkward two words ever… Fucking hell._ She started toward the gangster's table, trying to get a read on the situation; he looked bored, but kept glancing toward the door and the girl—Moirall—seemed none the wiser.

Garrus followed Shepard's intended path and swore. _Of course she would find the worst gangbanger in the club…_ With every step she took, he prayed she would change course, but she didn't; her eyes were locked on the gang leader. _Don't do it Shepard, whatever it is that guy asked you to do, don't do it. Stay away from Florit, damn you!_ Of course she had to be the damn hero, she always had to be a big fucking hero. Why? _Why _did she always have to be the fucking hero?

_Because it's who she is. It's who you fell in love with._

Fuck. As infuriating and impossible as she was, it was true. She stood confidently at their table, chatting aimless nonsense as if she were in no danger at all and Garrus couldn't help but admire her. _Damn it, you've made a mess of things…_ Still, he trained his sights on Florit, hoping the gang leader would think Shepard was crazy, or high, or… something, as long as he left her alone. Garrus watched as Shepard cocked out her hip—in a way that made the dip of her waist even more severe and alluring—and gesture to the man and woman. Something she said made the man raise a brow and the woman he was with suddenly looked alarmed; but no one reached for weapons—a good sign.

Hoping that her posture exuded some sort of casualness, Shepard jutted out one hip, hooking a thumb in her belt, and continued, hoping that the idiotic sentences she'd chosen would work. "I get by on public _terminals_. My omnitool's been broken for an _eternity_." Florit stared at her like she was an idiot, but Moirall seemed to understand what was happening and Shepard gave a quick nod. "Well, if there isn't one around, I guess I'll make do. Thanks." She turned back the way she had come, risking only a quick glance to see Moirall abandon Florit at his table. _Good._

Moirall's friend was watching the scene unfold and finally released a thankful sigh as Shepard walked back toward him. "You did it! Thank you! I don't know who you are, but thank you for saving her life."

Shepard let her lips curl into a small smile. "No problem. Just tell her to be more careful." _Maybe another drink wouldn't hurt…_ Her cybernetics had already burned off the first two and her head had begun to ache again—probably from that poison. She was halfway to the bar when a hand brushed across her collar bone, making her freeze.

"I've been watching you," a voice like velvet said, inches from her ear, "You're the most interesting person in this place." A woman made of shadows stepped around until she was in front of Shepard. An asari in black leather smiled coyly at her, letting a hand rest on Shepard's hip, just above her empty holster—was she checking for a weapon? "My name's Morinth."

_Oh. Oh! _Shepard smiled, settling her weight into the hip where Morinth touched her. _Keep calm. Don't give yourself away. _"Pleasure," she purred, earning a catlike grin from the asari.

"I've got a booth over here in the shadows. Why don't you come sit with me?"

* * *

Garrus let out the breath he'd been holding as Florit let Shepard leave, and noted with some curiosity that he had also let his female companion—date?—leave as well. Did Shepard do that? A human man approached her—wait, she talked to him earlier—looking relieved and appeared to be… thanking her? His mind ticked over the pieces before settling on the most likely scenario: the woman was this man's friend and Shepard had helped her—maybe Florit was going to kill her?—and now he was thanking Shepard. Probably close enough to what had happened.

He could see Shepard smile at the man as he thanked her again; seeing the gratitude in the man's face, he knew that was why she did what she did, why she took it on herself to be the hero.

_Then why let Sidonis go?_

He blinked, pulling back from his rifle for a moment. Her hero complex didn't explain why she would let him go, why she would refuse to help her best friend, of all people… So why _had_ she done it? Surely, Sidonis hadn't thanked her like this complete stranger had—even if the traitor had, Garrus wouldn't have seen, he couldn't bear to watch that bastard walk away—and yet she'd done it anyway. He couldn't bring himself to be angry about it now, not when he was so close to understanding what went through her perplexing human head, but it still irked him.

_If she always has a reason for what she does, then there must be a reason she let Sidonis go._

He brought the scope to his eye again and cursed, trying to find Shepard in the crowd again. _If she dies because you lost sight of her…_

There. An asari stood in front of her, hand resting intimately on the bare skin of Shepard's hip and a growl rose in his chest. Morinth. Morinth was touching her. Spirits, what if Shepard fell under her trance? The thought made his stomach flip and he had to force down a deep breath. _Just keep an eye on her and it'll all be—_

Morinth led her to a booth in a darkened corner, out of his line of sight and the rumble in his chest grew louder. Damn it. He pressed a finger to the comm in his ear. "Samara. Morinth's got her in a booth, I can't get eyes on them without breaking cover."

"Remain where you are. If they leave, I shall follow."

"I'm not going to sit here while she's in danger!"

"Peace, Garrus. They cannot leave the club without leaving the booth. Just wait until they emerge."

Something about the justicar's disembodied voice was just a bit unnerving and he settled back into his hiding place with a huff. Maybe it was her unbelievable calm, but only hearing her voice without seeing her made him feel as if his common sense were finally taking over. _Just wait until they emerge… I can do that…_

* * *

Shepard settled back into the booth opposite Morinth; it was definitely private and she absently wondered if Garrus could still see them. She didn't like the possibility that Morinth had her completely alone and at her mercy, but managed to keep her expression mysteriously interested. Morinth watched her like a cat watches prey and Shepard gazed back levelly; the family resemblance was striking and she idly wondered if Samara's other daughters look as similar. Her heart beat slowly and steadily, a stark contrast to the mild panic she felt behind her nonchalance. The asari sat back, letting her arm drape over the edge of the booth and sighed contentedly.

"Sometimes I come here and there's no one interesting to talk to. Sometimes there's just one person," she mused, lip pulling into a smile, "Tonight it's you. Why is that?"

Shepard shifted, crossing her legs absently; how was she supposed to answer that question? Sure, she'd been trying to get the Ardat Yakshi's attention for most of the night, but that still didn't mean she knew what Morinth wanted. _Appeal to her vanity. She likes glamor and power._ "Because we're a lot alike."

That made the asari's grin widen—the expression was more threatening than reassuring—and she replied, "Are we?"

_No._ "Well… Do you know anything about art?" _Focus on her interests. What was that artist she sent to Nef?_

Morinth sat forward, her eyes boring into Shepard's. "It speaks to the darkest parts of me… Makes me feel things that life just… can't." She let out a quiet huff of laughter and propped her chin on her hand, elbow set on the table. "What about you?"

Shepard tried not to fidget under her unwavering gaze, clenching and unclenching her hands by her sides. "I'm interested in an elcor artist… Forta, that's his name."

Now Morinth's eyes lit up and she smiled a genuine smile. "I didn't think anyone around here knew him," she practically gushed and Shepard found it even more unnerving than the fact that this asari would probably try to kill her. "His work is _sublime_. But art comes in so many forms… I've seen vids that are more powerful than any sculpture in a gallery."

Vids… Nef's journal had mentioned a vid… Oh shit, what was it called… "Violent ones? Or glamorous ones?" Shepard stalled, wracking her brain. _Oh!_ "I've heard I should see one called 'Vaenia'." She toyed with the ends of her hair absently, hands itching for a gun, or a weapon, or to do _something._

"My favorite…" The asari's voice dropped to the same velvet tone she'd used to introduce herself. "The two actresses in it are so glamorous… I'd kill to live like that."

_I'm sure you already have…_ Shepard thought darkly, but forced herself to say something else, "Maybe we can watch it together." That made the other woman's eyes sparkle and Shepard put on her best alluring smile. _She thinks she has me in the palm of her hand…_ "How about the music in this place?" she finally asked, lounging back against the booth and letting her eyes lazily wander around the club before focusing back on the asari.

"Dark rhythms, violent pulses…" Morinth closed her eyes for a moment, listening, before she continued, "It stirs something primitive in me…" When she looked back to Shepard, her eyes were hooded. "What about you?"

_That band… What was that band… Sensory band… Shit shit shit…_ "I'm into some obscure bands… There's one I've heard of—sensory band, make you feel things—that I want to get into. Expel 10," she finally said, looking back to the asari with a sly smile. "Have you heard of them?"

Now Morinth's catlike grin returned. "They get in my head and tear it to pieces," she replied gleefully, "They're playing in concert soon. We could go together."

"Definitely." _Not on your life._

"You can lose yourself to music like that, but there are ways to enhance that… you know?" the asari purred, leaning forward again. Her gaze bored into Shepard's and the human mimicked her posture, letting her hands sit on top of the table in what she hoped was an inviting way.

"What do you think of Hallex?" Shepard replied, her voice equally low. That made Morinth reach across the table and take Shepard's hands in hers.

"It slithers through my soul." The Ardat Yakshi gave her hands a squeeze. "You feel everything—sounds, colors, feelings—on your skin. And you just have to _move_."

"I'll have to try it."

"We can do it together," Morinth suggested, turning their hands over, absently examining her wrists. The skin was still unmarred—protected under her armor in the field—and that fact seemed to make Morinth's smile widen. Shepard managed to quash her alarm at the expression and nodded. There was a beat of dead air between them before Shepard tilted her head slightly and lowered her voice, prompting Morinth to lean a little further forward. They needed to wrap this up quickly, and Shepard didn't want to give the asari any more time to analyze her behavior.

"You know, I've travelled all over the galaxy," Shepard murmured, casually running the side of her foot along the asari's calf. Morinth's eyes flickered down toward the table before looking back up—she hadn't been expecting to be pursued, it seemed—but smiled.

"It changes you, doesn't it?" Morinth replied, tracing patterns on the back of Shepard's hand. The touches left cool trails on the human woman's skin and she had to suppress the urge to shudder.

"Mmm," Shepard hummed, looking down at their entwined fingers, "But real travel means going to dangerous places."

"Where you can see and do things no one would ever imagine," the Ardat Yakshi added, a suggestive tone painting the words. Tension practically crackled through the air. Shepard looked up then and nodded, though she was sure they were talking about entirely different things. She was sure that it wouldn't take much more to get Morinth to take her home—hell, the woman was practically undressing Shepard with her eyes—so it was just a matter of sealing the deal. But, Morinth spoke again before Shepard could, "You know, when I travel, I find myself drawn to dark, dangerous places."

"Violent places?" Shepard asked lowly, arching a brow.

"Violence is the surest expression of power."

There were barely a foot apart now and Shepard chuckled lowly, finally sitting back and pulling her hands out of Morinth's grasp. The asari's eyes widened in mild surprise and Shepard smirked. "Violence is the means to an end. Power is that end," she replied confidently, draping her arms across the back of the booth. Morinth's eyes sparkled and the asari rose, holding out a hand.

"Do you want to get out of here? My apartment's not far, and I need to get you alone."

Shepard accepted the hand, rising from her seat, but the other woman pulled her forward, wrapping her other arm around Shepard's waist. There was a moment where neither moved, eyes locked on each other, before the Ardat Yakshi finally released her.

"Come on, it's this way."

Shepard gestured for her to lead the way, but Morinth resettled her arm around Shepard's back, her hand resting on the human's bare hip, and the Commander found herself being led through Omega's back alleys. She risked a cursory glance around, trying to catch a flash of Samara's red armor, but she caught no sign of the justicar. _I really hope they can find us…_ She didn't know where they were going—being unfamiliar with the streets of Omega—but she desperately hoped she wouldn't be alone with Morinth for long.

* * *

Garrus had been staring at the last place he'd seen Shepard like it had offended him and his eyes were beginning to burn. _Damn this mission, and damn Morinth for choosing the only place I can't see them._ He closed his eyes and massaged the lids angrily, absently imploring any deity that would listen to let them get thought this mess; he needed to be able to fix whatever was wrong between the two of them. He could be angry with her another time; right now, he needed her to be safe. When his eyes opened, he saw Morinth emerge from the booth and scrambled to get his scope to his eye; the asari pulled Shepard to her feet, taking the opportunity to draw the human's body flush to her own. His blood heated and he growled.

"Samara, they're getting ready to leave," he hissed into the comm as he watched. The asari held on to Shepard for a moment longer than necessary and he added, "Morinth's all over her."

There was a moment's pause as the two women headed for the exit before Samara replied, "I see them. I will follow them to Morinth's apartment and observe."

"_Observe?!_ No, you need to stop her!"

"Shepard needs to lower her defenses. Do not worry, I will be close by."

Garrus's growl grew louder and he quickly disassembled his rifle, heading toward the catwalks that led out to the streets. He didn't like the idea of Shepard being alone with Morinth, and he _especially_ didn't like the idea of Morinth _touching_ her. Oh no, that made his skin crawl. If the Ardat Yakshi tried to attack Shepard and he wasn't there to protect her… _Don't think about it._ But he couldn't stop. Visions of Morinth looming over Shepard's body—cold and lifeless—burned themselves into his retinas and he had to stop to lean against a wall, nausea threatening to overtake him. _Move your ass, Vakarian. You've got to be there._

* * *

Morinth's apartment was far too… _normal._ It had walls, and floors, and couches… It looked too much like a _person_ lived there than a heartless killer. _Focus, Shepard,_ she chided herself as Morinth glided over to the L-shaped couch and settled onto the cushion, legs tucked up under herself. Shepard forced her feet to move, wandering the perimeter of the apartment as if it genuinely interested her. Her fingers ghosted over the loose pills lying on a table and she heard Morinth's low chuckle.

"Have a Hallex if you want, but wouldn't you rather have all of your senses sharp right now?" She made a low sound in the back of her throat that made Shepard turn, locking eyes with Morinth as the asari added, "I certainly do."

"Yeah…" came the unconvincing reply as Shepard examined a sword and rifle on the wall. As if prompted by her guest's interest, Morinth spoke again.

"I was into dueling once. I love seeing the look on your opponent's eyes… He knows you're better and he's going to die." The statement held far too much joy for Shepard's comfort and she strode further into the apartment, boots tapping against the pristine floors. _Awfully clean for a murder den…_ Morinth made no moves to follow, merely watching with unveiled interest as her charge examined the large carved statue that seemed to be oddly placed in the room, facing the bed. "A gift, from a suitor; statue has more personality than he did." She shrugged with a sly smile. "But he impressed me enough that he finally got what he wanted." There was a beat of silence before she ominously added, "It didn't end the way he had hoped.

_I bet it didn't. _Shepard couldn't help but wonder if the poor bastard had known he was asking for death, but kept the thought from finding its way to her tongue, nodding vaguely at Morinth's words. She paused, carefully opening an engraved box to reveal an elegantly carved chess set. _Interesting…_

"I love any game where your opponent can believe he is about to win… just before you kill him," Morinth said, as if reading her thoughts. Morinth tilted her head to smile at the human as Shepard stood at the top of the short flight of stairs leading back into the entry. "Why don't you come and sit over here with me?"

Damn, no more delaying… Shepard moved slowly toward the asari, her step measured, and tried to casually lower herself down on the couch, sitting closer than she would have liked to the Ardat Yakshi. Morinth's smile widened and she leaned toward the human woman, sliding one hand so it was behind Shepard's shoulders.

"You know, I love the clubs—the people, the movement, the heat… I can still hear the beats, like the drums of a great hunt, out for your blood. But here… It's muted, and you're safe." She paused, studying her companion's face. "Is that what you want, Shepard?"

Shepard forced a confident smirk onto her face and gave the slightest shake of her head. "People feel safest right before they die," she said, "I don't want to be safe, I want to be in command."

"It's true, you're never safe," Morinth mused, clearly intrigued, "I've never understood the fascination with safety. Some of us choose differently." She stood, then, and moved to stand in front of Shepard; when the human didn't move, she pushed the other woman's shoulder back against the couch and straddled her lap. Shepard's eyes widened, chest rising and falling dramatically with her sharp intake of breath, but didn't move. "Independence over submission… I think we share that, you and I."

The asari leaned toward her, but Shepard spoke before their lips could meet. "We've both killed many times, but that's where the similarities end."

Morinth recoiled quickly, confusion painting her face as she pulled away. "Why do you say that I've killed?" she asked, feigning innocence in a way that made Shepard laugh in her face.

"Dueling? The chess metaphor? I'm not blind, Morinth," she said, resisting the urge to throw the Ardat Yakshi from her lap.

Morinth's brow furrowed and she scowled, shifting so she was seated beside Shepard. "What do you know? Let's stop playing games."

_You're the one playing games,_ Shepard thought darkly, but said nothing, and the asari's eyes narrowed.

"Fine then." The asari closed her eyes and Shepard felt something brushing at the edges of her consciousness; it was oddly familiar, and she could have sworn she had felt it before… When Morinth opened her eyes, they were flat black and Shepard suddenly remembered why this all felt familiar: it was the same way she had felt right before she had melded with Liara. The brushes became like claws and Shepard reeled back, feeling like her brain was being shredded, but Morinth had a hand around the back of her skull. "Look into my eyes and tell me you want me," she purred, and Shepard could hear the words echoing through her brain like a clap of thunder, "Tell me you'd kill for me… Anything I want."

Shepard felt her thoughts slipping away like mist, escaping her grasp before she could latch onto them, and she tried to lift a hand to push Morinth away, but her limbs felt like lead. Pain bloomed behind her eyes and she grit her teeth against the compulsion to obey Morinth's wishes, trying to battle back the thrill of crippling fear that blossomed from her chest. _I'm not going out like this… Not to this bitch._

"Don't… count on it," she forced out, eyes snapping open to glare at the asari and Morinth stared in shock, her black eyes returning to their natural color.

"But you… Who are you?" the Ardat Yakshi asked, surprise painting her tone. Then, realization seemed to hit her. "Oh no… I see what's going on. The bitch herself found a little helper." She scowled and stood quickly. "I'm not staying to—"

Shepard jumped up and grabbed the woman's arm, ignoring the way the room seemed to pitch and roll. "Yes you are."

"Morinth!"

Both spun to see Samara striding in, biotics glowing around her like a tempest. A pulse sent Morinth flying into the window; she hit with a flat thud, cracks creating a spiderweb on the glass behind her. Shepard took a shaky step back, her skull pounding like a krogan were using it as a drum; she was sure she looked pale and wane—she certainly felt like it—but forced her shoulders back into a challenging stance.

"Mother," Morinth spat, turning her head against the grip holding her to the glass to stare at her parent.

"Do _not_ call me that," Samara growled, pressing her daughter harder against the glass.

Morinth forced her gaze to Samara again and tried to gain some leverage on the glass. "I can't choose to stop being your daughter, _Mother._"

"You made your choice long ago!" Samara snapped. Shepard's eyes flickered between the two women with mild alarm. She wanted to step in, wanted to stop them from doing any more damage, but her vision was swimming and she didn't know how well she could control her biotics. Her knees threatened to give and she scrambled for support, finally leaning heavily on the arm of the couch.

"_What choice?!_" Morinth cried, letting out a blast of biotic energy that sent both Shepard and Samara staggering. She lifted an arm chair and drew her arm back. "My only crime was being born with the gifts _you_ gave me!" She threw the chair ferociously, knocking Samara to the floor. The justicar huffed out a breath as she landed, and Morinth stalked toward her.

"Enough, Morinth!" the justicar hissed, throwing a backhanded blow to her daughter's face. Morinth spun and fell as Samara climbed to her feet. But when she turned to face her daughter, Morinth was already advancing on her, biotics glowing around her hand. With a yell, they met in the middle, an orb of raw energy spinning between them. Furniture lifted off the floor and began orbiting the deadly stalemate. Shepard crouched low, ducking under a stray table.

"I am the genetic destiny of the asari, but they are not ready to reveal this… So I must die." The way she said it, Morinth sounded genuinely saddened by that fact, but Samara seemed unconvinced.

"You are a disease to be purged, nothing more!"

Morinth scowled, knowing her mother would not be swayed, and turned her efforts elsewhere. Without looking away from her mother, she addressed Shepard, "I'm as strong as she is, let me join you!"

If Shepard hadn't felt like she was about to collapse, she would have laughed. _She's killed hundreds, and would have killed me, and now she wants to _join me_?! Bull shit._

"I am already sworn to help you, Shepard. Let us finish this!" Samara said quickly.

Shepard ducked the table again and stalked forward. Her body screamed in protest, but she'd had more than enough of this nonsense for one lifetime. With the last of her strength, she wrenched Morinth's arm back, effectively disarming her and leaving her defenseless. "End of the line, Morinth," she growled through clenched teeth.

"And they call me a monster," Morinth spat.

But Shepard had no time to reply as Samara struck her daughter back again. The Ardat Yakshi hit the floor with a grunt and began scrambling backwards, but Samara was faster. The justicar grabbed her daughter by the throat and sighed, drawing back a biotically charged fist.

"Find peace in the embrace of the Goddess." A sick crack made Shepard turn her gaze away and Samara slowly straightened, as if the entire world weighed on her shoulders. Morinth didn't move, her head hanging at a grotesque angle as the justicar dropped her limp body. "I am ready to leave this place and get on with my life," she sighed, hanging her head slightly, "Are you ready to go as well?"

Shepard looked up from where she stood, hands leaning on her knees. The justicar seemed to have aged decades in the mere moments they'd been in the apartment and the Commander couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. "Do you want to talk about what just happened?" she asked quietly, straightening and moving to stand behind the asari.

"What do you think I will say?" Samara asked angrily, spinning to face the human, "What _can_ I say? I just killed the bravest and smartest of my daughters…" She sighed and looked down. "There are no words… I will try another time, but for now…" She took a careful breath. "For now, show mercy on an old warrior, and let us leave."

Shepard sighed tiredly and raked a hand through her hair, but immediately regretted it when her muscles screamed and her skull felt like a spike were being driven through her temple. "Right... Let's go. I'm sure Garrus will have some words for us…"

* * *

Garrus was shaking when he lowered the rifle from his eye. The building he'd found was abandoned, and getting up to the roof had been easy enough; he'd gotten lucky, and it had provided a perfect line of sight through the window into Morinth's apartment. Well, lucky, but it also made sitting there, unable to help, infinitely harder. Seeing Shepard in pain, seeing Morinth's hands on her… It had been almost impossible to resist the urge to put a bullet in the asari's skull. But that glass… He knew most glass on Omega was bulletproof—a necessary precaution—and the sound would have alerted Morinth to their presence. But damn if he hadn't wanted to drag Shepard out of there, to carry her back to the _Normandy_, to her cabin, and make sure she was safe.

_She was defenseless… There was nothing she could have done…_

Seeing her at Morinth's mercy… He set the rifle down on the edge of the roof and exhaled slowly. Rage… Anger had burned through him like a wildfire and it had taken all of his will power not to storm the apartment on his own, screw the plan. And then seeing her dodging the flying furniture while Samara and Morinth had faced off... Samara was supposed to protect her! He growled, compressing the rifle and returning it to its position on the back of his shoulder.

He was tired of Shepard taking all of these ridiculous risks, tired of watching her put herself in harm's way, tired of being helpless to keep her safe. This was going to end; he'd had enough.

It was time they talked.

* * *

**And so do I lay this humble offering at the feet of my faithful readers to whom I have been most unkind. (By that, I mean I'm sorry for how long this took)**

**Please please please let me know what you guys think (so I can tell Greenyoda987 how awesome she is).**


	21. Chapter 21

**As promised, I have updated in a reasonable amount of time! Yay progress!**

**Seriously, though, thank my epic beta/editor Greenyoda987 for constantly reminding me to update this chapter. This is her FAVORITE so far, she tells me, and I'm sure you'll all understand why! ;D**

* * *

Any other time, Garrus would have been glad to return to the _Normandy_, call the mission over with and go back down to the Main Battery—especially after a mission on Omega—but now, his blood was up; returning to the ship was usually the end of the fight, but now he knew it was just the beginning. He stormed through the CIC, ignoring Joker's inquisitive look as he passed. EDI began to politely inform him that he was the last to return to the ship and they would be leaving the system shortly and if he had any… He'd stopped listening at that point, eyes locked on the one person he needed, more than anything, to just talk to, standing in front of the elevator. Her hand was hovering just above the panel when she looked up to find him standing beside her and she jumped; either she hadn't expected him to get back so quickly, or she was afraid of the look in his eyes. He was angry—she knew it, and he knew she knew it—and she was the cause. He could see her weight shuffle between her feet as she looked back down to the console, expression tight.

Shepard could feel her heart speed up—an automatic reaction to feeling cornered and threatened—but forced herself to remain where she was. _I will _not _show fear._ She couldn't run like a frightened pyjak, not when she needed to stand her ground and make him see… She smacked the panel and settled back into her hip, taking a long breath through her nose as she waited for the lift to arrive; the weight of his eyes boring into her was impossible to miss, but she ignored it as best she could. Instead, she focused on how nice it would be to get up to her cabin; she could get out of the ridiculous clothes, take off the make-up that was smudged all over her face and burning her eyes, and do _something_ about the nest that her hair had turned into. And sleep. Definitely sleep. God, was she tired…Exhaustion weighed on her limbs and it took all her effort not to just plop down on the floor of the CIC to rest her legs. A low growl from beside her drew her attention, but she kept her eyes firmly locked on the still-closed doors to the elevator; was he still angry with her about Sidonis? What could she possibly say now that she hadn't said before? What could fix this that she hadn't already tried? Her skull pounded and she knew there was no way she could deal with… this, the whole fucking mess, right then. Nope, she was going to sleep and deal with it later.

The elevator finally opened with a light ping and she stepped inside, Garrus close on her heels. "What floor?" she asked as casually as she could, fingers waiting above the Crew Deck. She forced herself to look up at him and immediately wished she hadn't; his eyes burned into hers and she could feel her stomach drop to the floor. The predatory look in his eye… In that second, she immediately considered jumping out of the elevator and offering to take the next one, but forced herself to remain where she was, if only to save face.

"Doesn't matter."

Oh. Dammit. Shepard quickly punched the button for her cabin, hoping to make her escape and postpone the brewing ire that would inevitably be unleashed upon her. The gears creaked and they slowly began their progress upward. Every second felt like an hour and Shepard felt ready to jump out of her skin, crossing her arms tightly and clenching her hands into fists out of sight.

Garrus's mind was abuzz the moment he had stepped into the elevator, all too aware of her proximity, her heartbeat… Her fear. She was trying everything to avoid looking at him again and he could see the sag in her posture; she was exhausted and he could smell the stench of Omega on her. And yet, knowing that, he knew he couldn't wait anymore.

Faster than she had time to react, Shepard found herself slammed against the wall, Garrus's face inches from hers as her breath left her in a whoosh. She was vaguely aware of her head hitting the metal panels, sending a shot of pain through her already aching skull, but adrenaline and fear had all but numbed her nerves. Her ears rang as blood roared through her veins and it felt as if her heart were trying to break its way out of her chest; she had only been as scared as she was in that second once before: right before she had died. Garrus was towering over her, one of his hands planted on the wall over her shoulder, the other pressing her back against the cool metal, and she wondered for a moment if he would attack her.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" The accusation was bitter, barely above a whisper, but Shepard still tried to shrink back. When she didn't answer, he gave her a shake, jaw working furiously. "Answer me, dammit."

She couldn't. Her mouth refused to work, dry as his fury and frustration rolled off of him in tangible waves; her eyes were wide, darting toward the door and she prayed they would open. But they didn't, and why would they; the elevator had never been quick before, and now was no different. Garrus's eyes narrowed, mandibles flexing as an involuntary rumble escaped his chest.

"Whatever you're trying to prove by facing everything alone, just forget it," he finally snapped, "You're not going to prove anything except that you know how to get yourself killed."

_That_ was what this was about? _That_?! Not Sidonis, or Morinth, but this same shit again?! Shepard's brow furrowed and she scowled. Her own pent up anger boiled within her again and whatever fear had taken hold of her melted. _Fuck this._

"Since when do you care?!" Suddenly, she was shouting and he blinked in surprise. "You haven't said two words to me since we got back from the goddamn Citadel, so why the fuck are you pulling this bullshit now, Garrus?!" Her face was flushed and her fists shaking as she glared at him; when he didn't answer, she planted both hands on his chest and shoved, making him stagger back a step. Reclaiming her personal space was a small victory and she took the opportunity to rub her temples in an effort to stave off the growing migraine that had been brewing since Morinth had tried to forcibly meld with her. "I swear, sometimes I just want to pull that stick out of your ass and beat you with it…" She shook her head and looked back to him, her expression stony and neutral; she couldn't handle to be emotional with him anymore, it was too much. The past week had left her heart aching and raw for a friend who no longer seemed to be there, who no longer seemed to see her as his ally. She was done caring if all it would get her was more pain. "In case you'd forgotten, I can take care of myself," she whispered as the doors finally slid open, "Now, I'm sure your precious calibrations are calling, so I'll just leave you to them." If there was a word to describe Commander Shepard, it never would have been bitter—angry, short-tempered, and impulsive perhaps, but never bitter—and yet now it was all she felt; her best friend—the one person she trusted at her back and with her soul—felt like he was light-years away. And if that was the way he wanted it, fine. So be it.

She made it one step toward the door before a taloned hand closed around her arm and pulled her back into the enclosed space. Her temper flared and she spun as if to yell at him again, but instead found herself trapped between the wall and his body. His armor dug into her unprotected body and the air all but crackled and snapped with electricity.

"Dammit, for once you're going to shut up and listen to me, Shepard," he growled. She looked ready to argue, but he pressed on before she could stop him, "I am not going to just watch while you go get yourself killed! Not before I get some answers."

Shepard scoffed, anger making her bold. "What answers?"

"You know what!" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath before speaking again, his voice quiet, "Why? Why let him go? And don't tell me that he deserved it; his guilt was selfish. He was ashamed, not repentant. Why him and not Morinth?"

Shepard managed to rake a hand through her hair despite their close proximity and he stepped back, though only enough to leave a few inches between them. A heavy sigh escaped her and the fight seemed to drain out of her. God, she was tired… So tired. Tired of fighting him, tired of solving everyone's problems, tired of no one stopping to ask if she even _wanted_ this. "You want to do this now? Fine," she spat, staring hard at the wall beside him, "I let Sidonis go to save you from Archangel."

Confusion touched him and he blinked at her. "That doesn't—"

She turned to look at him finally, a sudden fierceness in her expression. "Omega changed you, Garrus, and the person you were becoming isn't someone I trust. I trusted _you_, Garrus, not Archangel. Archangel would have killed Sidonis, but the Garrus I knew—the Garrus I trusted and called my best friend—would have understood why I let him go." Her shoulders hunched forward and she let herself lean heavily on the wall behind her. She didn't know if he would understand… if he knew just how much she had relied on him as her strength, but she could only hope so. And if not… Could she finish her mission without him on her six? The cold chill of fear settled in her stomach and she knew then that, if he did turn his back on her, then it might possibly mean the end.

For a moment, Garrus was struck by how small she looked under the weight of her exhaustion and his presence, but his frustration burned within him, hot and unforgiving. "That wasn't your choice to make!" He was towering over her now, imposing and—to anyone else—intimidating, but the silent challenge did nothing but make Shepard lurch forward to get in his face.

"The hell it was! I am still in command, and _I_ am responsible for your actions and your well-being!" He could see her jaw working back and forth when she paused, her lips pressed into a thin line, before she spoke again. "Would it have really made you happy?" Desperately, she wanted him to understand, to somehow bridge the growing divide between them, if only to call a ceasefire, and yet some part of her still wanted him to admit that she was right. But she knew how stubborn they both could be and the odds of that possibility were… less than promising.

"Yes!" It was out before he had thought about it. He knew it was true; to kill Sidonis, to make him pay, would have assuaged the guilt that had been ever-present, weighing him down. To have finally been free… How could she ask if it would have made him happy? How could there have been any other answer?

"Wrong!"

The single word struck him like a blow and he recoiled slightly, mandibles tight to his face. Who was she to tell him how he would feel? She had no right to assume to understand him. A savage growl tore from him and he slammed her back against the wall again, relishing the quiet grunt of pain she gave. "How do _you_ know?!"

Her eyes flashed and she threw her words at him like barbs, "Because I know you! Or I thought I did." Her throat tightened and she forced her eyes closed. Damn it. She could feel the too-familiar burning of tears behind her lids and desperately willed them away, but no. They slid, hot and wet, down her cheeks and she forced in a shaking breath as she looked back up at him. His expression was that of surprise and shocked confusion and she scoffed, sniffling as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "Are you happy now, Garrus?" she asked tightly as the tears still fell down her face, "You have your damn answers."

She slipped past him and moved as if to leave him alone in the elevator, but he reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her again. The look in her eye would have sent anyone else cowering as she glowered at him over her shoulder—intimidating even in tears—but he didn't release her.

"No, I'm not. And I don't." She didn't make any move to reply or face him and he sighed, shifting so he was beside her. She had still avoided his first question and so he repeated it. "Why do you keep putting yourself in danger?"

She gave him a quizzical look and rubbed away the fresh tears—along with half of her make-up. "We've already been through this, Garrus," she finally answered tiredly. Of all the things he wanted to question her about now…

"I don't care. Tell me again. Look me in the eye and tell me why."

She sighed, exasperation making her turn to face him as she set her hands on her hips. Her eyes were red and her cheeks still tear-stained as she looked defiantly up at him, and he waited. "I can't let you all take a risk I wouldn't take myself. If I get hurt, then it's my own damn fault. But I won't be responsible for anything that happens to you. You're my crew, and I need to look out for you, even if that means walking into the fire myself." But she left out how much she needed him to anchor her, how much she relied on him to keep her sane, to keep her grounded. How could she tell him that, when he stood before her seething? He'd throw it back in her face.

It was a speech that seemed so well-rehearsed, so automatic that he scowled. "And who's looking out for you?" he asked, arms crossing over his carapace, "Who is watching your back while you're busy protecting everyone else?"

"I…" Shepard frowned, her brows knitting as she thought about it. "Why does it matter?" she finally asked tartly. Since when did it make a difference?

"Because you matter." He fixed her with a level stare as she crossed her arms in pantomime of his own posture. "And the answer is me. _I'm_ the one watching you taunt death every step of the way, and when you finally take it too far,_ I'm_ the one who's going to have to watch you…" He cut off his tirade, mandibles clamping tight to his jaw as he swallowed down a few deep breaths. He couldn't bear to think of her dying again… Spirits, not again… His chest tightened—a shadowy reminder of the grief that had all but driven him to his knees—and it took a monumental effort not to sag against the wall beside him. When he finally found his voice, it was rough and strained, as if every word cut at him, "I already lost you once, dammit. I can't do it again. I… I just can't."

Shepard's arms fell to her sides, her expression softening. Lost her? Did he mean that? His pain… She remembered how it felt in the moments where it was uncertain if he would live or die, how it felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest and replaced with ice. God, was that what he felt now? How he'd felt then? Could it even compare? She had suffered a few hours, he had spent two years… But she forced her tongue to move, forced the words out. "What do you mean?"

He took a step away, turning so he was no longer facing her and hung his head, but answered, "I… felt like part of me was missing. When you died… I didn't know what to do with myself, with… grey." His discomfort was obvious in the set of his shoulders as he sighed. "On Omega, I was just trying to be useful until…" He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "Until I got to join you." A rueful smile pulled at his expression and he finally turned one eye to look at her. "I didn't want to live in a galaxy without you in it. I mean, what kind of place would that be?" He couldn't stop himself now, not now that he was talking about it. The words just kept coming, flowing out of him without his help, and in that moment, he didn't care. Instead, he just closed his eyes and let it happen. He just wanted to get it out, to finally give voice to a feeling that had threatened to suffocate him for two years with no outlet. "I'm not ashamed of what I did, of wanting to kill Sidonis, but I'd rather you be alive and hate me than be alone again. I couldn't bear it." When he opened his eyes again, she was beside him, her hand on his arm, but he wouldn't look at her.

"Garrus… why didn't you tell me?" she asked quietly, her eyes entreating, but he didn't see.

He scoffed. "And say what? That I fell in love with the voice in my head? _Your_ voice in my head? That I lost my mind when you died? No offense, Commander, but that doesn't seem like the best way to explain myself." He had never confessed to hearing her voice—to her or anyone—but now it just slipped out and he didn't care.

"I would have listened." He looked at her then, startled, with wide eyes, and she couldn't help her small smile. "I _am_ listening." He wasn't angry—maybe he was, but not with her any more—and that was enough to send a rush of relief through her. Yes, they had been at odds but this—talking, being there for each other—was so much closer to normal. This was the man she had called her best friend, in whom she had never hesitated to confide, with whom she would trust her life without a second thought. God, she'd missed him. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Garrus stared at her for a moment, his brain slow to process what he had said and what she was saying, yet when it did, it hit him like a sack of bricks. All of the time he had spent angry with her, blaming her, she had never stopped being the person he had—and would always—follow to hell and back. Yet now he could see it; standing beside him now was the Shepard he had left C-Sec to follow, had turned his back on everything he'd ever known for. And now he could see what he'd been too scared to ever admit—to her or himself—before: she was more important to him than anything else in the galaxy. He'd lost her once already and it had nearly destroyed him. And he'd almost lost her again, his own stubbornness pushing her away. He had another chance and he wasn't going to waste it; this time, this chance, he was going to love her. That realization hit him square in the chest, his heart flipping, and he couldn't help the heavy breath he let out. She was here. With him.

Before he really understood what he was doing, he moved, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her to his chest; he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent that told him, yes, she was actually still here. He pressed her up against the wall—this time not out of anger, but with urgency—as he felt her warm, supple body mold to his carapace, a shaky breath pulling through her lips. He pulled back and his mouth met hers desperately, hungrily, needing the contact as weeks—years—of words never spoken, fears never voiced, and feelings always hidden came rushing forward. Her lips parted slightly and he rumbled into her mouth, earning another gasp of surprise, and he vaguely reflected that his time on Omega had at least been educational; sure, none of the asari had looked like her, or sounded like her, or acted like her, but they had made the nights tolerable and a little less lonely, and now that it was Shepard in his arms, the soft, pliant body pressed against him didn't feel so strange.

Shepard gasped at the hard plates against her lips, a mixture of surprise and unexpected triumph making her cling to the sharp, angular body that held her aloft. She melted into the arms that held her as his tongue teased hers, eyes fluttering closed as she drew her calf up the line of his leg. For all the effort she had made to tell herself not to, for all the times she had convinced herself that it wasn't true, she had wanted this, needed it even. Being brought back to life, being thrown into a fight with allies she couldn't trust… She hadn't known how much she relied on the presence of her friend until he wasn't there. It was lonely, to think her best friend—her only friend—hated and blamed her. But now, as warmth tingled across her skin and her stomach felt abuzz with butterflies, she actually felt wanted. Loved, even. Her heart stuttered, flipping over and over as his hands ran down her torso, one gripping tightly at her waist as the other dropped to grip her thigh as she hitched it over his hip. Her arms around his neck tightened and she could feel something growing in her chest, like a star threatening to burst. Was this what it felt like to be cared for? To know someone needed her? She had nothing to compare it to, no reference to work from, yet she had to think so. Would it have felt the same to have had a family? She wished she could remember, but at the same time, it was more than enough to think that yes, it was. His grip on her tightened and she pressed her body flush to his, relishing the taste of his mouth. But she forced herself to pull away, panting and flushed.

"Garrus… Are you—"

"Yes," Garrus cut her off, pulling her back in to kiss her again. The first time he had tried something like this, he was sure he had looked the fool, yet the quiet sounds Shepard made as he nipped at her lip were more than enough to convince him he had learned well. Or maybe it was her. All of his time before he had met her—at home, in the military, at C-Sec—he had felt like he was letting people down, like he just didn't measure up. Yet Shepard clung to him as if there were nothing else in the galaxy, relied on him as her friend, trusted him as her closest ally. He pulled away from the wall, lifting her with him, and carried her to her cabin.

Shepard tightened her legs around him as he carried her, earning a low growl in response, and thanked anyone she could think of that EDI had hardwired the door to open when her omnitool was in close enough proximity—she was impatient and didn't have time to be opening doors—as it slid open. Something cold met her back and she arched, inhaling sharply as she was pressed against her empty fishtank. Garrus pulled back from her lips when she gasped, breathing heavily, and trying to control the rush of emotion that he was drowning in. He gazed at her, searching her eyes for some indication that she was feeling anything like he was, and let out a shaky breath when he felt her fingers graze his jaw.

She could see the uneven ridges of scarring that marred the right side of his face, the asymmetry of his ruined features in the harsh blue light of her fishtank, and reached up to trace along his jaw; her fingertips were feather light against the rough scar tissue, but left a trail like fire in their wake and he leaned into the touch, letting his eyes close as he relished the tender gesture. But when he opened them again, the woman in his arms looked so sad, his heart nearly stopped.

"Shepard?" he asked carefully, nerves getting the better of him. Had he done something wrong? He had thought she had been enjoying what they were doing before… She gazed mournfully at him for another moment before speaking.

"I should have been there." It was barely a breath, barely audible even in the silence of her cabin, but Garrus could hear the crushing weight they left on her. She cradled his cheek, thumb stroking his injured mandible gently. "This never should have happened to you."

The scars… He tightened one arm around her and brought the other hand up to cover the one she held against his cheek. He sometimes forgot they were there, but even when he didn't, they were a badge of survival. Nothing could keep him from her, not even a gunship. Not even his own pride. And yet she thought it was her fault… "Shepard, don't," he finally said, subharmonics cracking.

"Why not? God, Garrus, I should have been there…" She was cradling his face in both hands now and he was finding it harder and harder to keep himself from dragging her closer, from holding her and trying to banish the pained expression on her face. She was here, in his arms, looking so honest, open and… vulnerable, and he couldn't help it as the need to protect her rose up in him; he couldn't stand the stricken look on her face, couldn't stand the fact that she was in pain because of him, that she might blame herself…

_Because if I had stayed with you, on the _Normandy_, you never would have left…_ Spirits, if he'd never gone back to C-Sec, maybe she wouldn't have died. It wasn't her fault, it had never been her fault. He set her feet back on the ground carefully but didn't take his hands from her. How could he tell her that? She would never believe him, it was just who she was—who he loved—but he would be damned if he didn't want to wipe the sad look from her eyes. "You _were_ there, Shepard. I'm alive because you were there." She sniffled, a small smile threatening to break on her face, and he took that as proof that it was the right thing to say.

Shepard tried to stop the smile, but it turned up the corners of her lips before she could stop it and she pulled him back down, standing on her toes to press her lips to his mouth again. Damn him for being right, but she'd be lying if it didn't make her feel a little bit better; scars or not, he was safe and finally here in her arms. No matter how much she had tried to deny her feelings over the past few weeks, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders as his arms tightened around her waist. He froze momentarily when her lips pressed against his mouth again, but he recovered quickly and lost himself in the sensation of the kiss as she opened her lips, breath ghosting over his mouth. She slowly began walking them further into her cabin, taking significant care not to stumble on the two stairs, as her fingers danced over the planes of his face and held him close.

Somewhere along the way, Garrus's brain caught up with the rest of him and realization struck like a cold shower. This was _Shepard_ who was pressed against him, _Shepard_ who was running her too-many fingers along the back of his cowl and—He bit down a growl of pleasure as said fingers settled just under his fringe, applying delicious pressure to the sensitive flesh. For all his hands-on… education on Omega, he suddenly felt desperately out of depth; this was Shepard, not some prostitute on Omega… She was a _hero_, a _legend_… Her mouth left his, trailing along his jaw, and she nipped at the skin of his throat. His mind went blank and for a moment it took all of his willpower not to toss her onto her bed and ravage her. _No, no, no, slow it down._ "Shepard, wait…Wait." He pulled her back and she blinked up at him in confusion. "Is this… I mean, I…" He sighed. "I know you can find something a little closer to home."

Closer to…? Shepard tilted her head slightly as she mulled that statement over, amusement blending with her confusion and she arched a brow. He hadn't moved away—his body was still flush to hers, his arms still tightly around her waist—so why was he asking? "You know me, Garrus. I don't change my mind."

Well, he knew that was true… Her stubbornness was what had gotten them there in the first place. And, on second thought, he realized that might be one of her better traits. But still, uncertainty gnawed at him; he had no idea what to do. This wasn't a random encounter, she wasn't a stranger he would never see again; he wanted this to be important, special. Stress-relief, he could do—that was familiar—but this? He didn't want that with Shepard, their friendship meant too much.

_Friendship, right._

Okay, so he had been hoping that maybe there was more to it than friendship, and if recent developments were any indication, then it hadn't been false hope. But how was he supposed to proceed?

Shepard knew the look on his face—it was a look men only got when they didn't want to screw things up—and decided that, after everything they'd been putting up with, he needed a break. And she didn't want to think about consequences. Her fingers sought the hidden catches of his armor—fumbling and uncertain at first, but gaining confidence as the pieces fell—and she couldn't help but smirk as he let her.

Seconds ticked by before Garrus realized what she was doing and he became aware of the cool air of her cabin through his undersuit. His shoulder guards and chestplate had somehow already ended up on the floor and he blinked, unable to process much of anything other than his desperate yearning for her. Her hands traced along the line of his chest, over his waist and—His thoughts were gone again as she spread her palms across the unplated flesh, flexing her fingers experimentally. A low rumble of approval escaped him and—he didn't know when he had moved his hands—flexed his grip on her hips. "Spirits, Shepard…"

She chuckled and reached for the zipper to his undersuit as his greaves his the floor, but he caught her hand. She looked up to meet his eyes and swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she met his gaze. If blue could smolder, the look in his eyes would have put it to shame and she could feel her skin heat under his scrutiny. He kept his hold on her hand, shucking off the last of his armor and, when he was satisfied that she wouldn't try again, turned his attention to her own clothing.

Let it not be said that Garrus Vakarian admitted defeat easily, but he was becoming more and more convinced that human clothing had no logic whatsoever. For how little material there was, he mused, there was a disproportionate amount of complication; best to just skip the entire process. The fabric tore away with a satisfying sound and he let the scraps fall from his hands with a triumphant huff. Shepard laughed, trying to hide her discomfort as she went to cover her breasts with her hands.

"I'm not sure how I'll explain to Miranda that you destroyed her stolen clothing," she finally said, but he ignored the statement. What brought on this sudden case of shyness? Since when was Shepard—Commander Jane Shepard—self-conscious? Gently, he took her hands and pulled them away from her body, leaving her bare to his gaze and she looked away.

"Shepard, look at me." Her lips pressed tightly together in a silent refusal and he sighed. "Please, Jane." He never would have thought of her as shy, never could have imagined her reluctant to be seen, and yet when she finally did look at him, she looked so fragile. This was the real Shepard—Shepard the person, Shepard the woman—not Shepard, the soldier. He drew her close to him, ducking his head to whisper in her ear, "You don't need to hide from me."

She turned just enough to see his face and whispered, "I'm not too… soft?" She'd done research—she would never admit it, but in a moment of weakness, her curiosity had gotten the better of her—and she knew that… Well, human anatomy was everything turians avoided in a partner: they were round, smooth, and generally squishy. Confidence in battle, she had, but confidence in herself, in her body? No, she was too straight and muscled for human men, too soft and round for turian men.

Garrus stared at her like she'd grown a second head. Did she think he wouldn't want her because she was human? Different? He looked at her—really looked, for the first time—and took in the line of her body, the silhouette of her ribs under her skin, the jut of her hips bones and the prominence of her collar bones. Of course she wasn't too soft. He admired the sharp angle of her cheek bones and reflected that—for all the talk that humans couldn't be attractive—Shepard had so many of those qualities. Absently, he let one talon trail along the narrow dip of her waist. But he didn't remember her being so small—thin, frail almost—in the hangar and yet now, it seemed like she had wasted away. Had he done this? In his anger and blindness, had he pushed her to neglect herself so much? How could he have not noticed the changes?

"No," he finally managed, threading one hand through her hair, "You're not." And he was sorry for it even as his arousal grew, because she should have been. She should have been soft—she should have been unattractive to him, she should have looked human—but now her skin was taut over muscle and bone with little in between, and he couldn't stop the throaty rumble as his eyes raked over the harsher angles of her body. He trailed his hand down from her waist, to flex against the bone jutting out from under the edge of her pants, his talons grazing against her skin. Shepard tilted her head back into his other hand when he tugged her against him by her hip, and he took the opportunity to trail his tongue along the line of her throat; she shivered and he purred in response, boldly nipping at the exposed flesh. Her hands found his waist again and he desperately wanted to be rid of his undersuit and get rid of her pants, wanting to explore more of her skin.

Shepard's knees all but buckled and she clung to him as heat rushed to her core. A small part of her brain screamed that this wasn't the time, that there was a galaxy to save, an enemy to stop, but she pushed it aside; there may never be the right time, not when they could die the next time they left the ship. She went for the zipper to his undersuit again and this time he didn't stop her; she peeled the fabric away with shaking hands, her fingers trailing over his plates as her eyes took all of him in. He looked… entirely alien and almost dangerous with all his natural armor, his plates solid and textured, covering almost all of his body… She sucked in a nervous breath after she finished pulling his undersuit off and brought her fingers back up, tracing the gaps in his plates with a mixture of curiosity and want. His skin was leathery between the plates and almost feverously hot; when she lightly scratched her nails along the hide above his stomach, Garrus hissed quietly, his mandibles flaring out and his eyes boring into hers as he watched her explore farther up his chest. She swallowed, meeting his gaze, and gently brushed her lips along the exposed skin, kissing a trail back up to his neck. She wound her arms around his cowl, her fingers brushing against the softer skin on the back of his head; her lips found his throat again and she started planting open-mouthed kisses along his jaw line, her tongue teasing at the textured skin, tasting the almost metallic flavor of his hide.

Garrus's hand spread across the small of her back, pressing her flush to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, a shudder running through him; this was new—exciting, wonderful, and scintillating—but new, and a thought occurred to him that it was just as new for Shepard. He was… turian. He was rough, spiky, covered in plates… That couldn't be something humans looked for—he had never seen a human with plates or fringe—and what if… What if it was too alien for her? He froze momentarily as he turned that thought over and over in his mind, only vaguely aware that Shepard had completely banished his undersuit from his person. Her lips found his neck again, her tongue teasing the sensitive hide, and his resolve faltered. Maybe it didn't matter… No, no, he had to know. It took all of his self-control, but he finally pulled her back by her shoulders, mandibles twitching erratically. She stared at him in confusion and he tried to take a deep breath.

"Shepard, I want you to be sure that… I'm… I know I'm not… like human men." Oh, that sounded awful.

She said nothing at first, tracing the line of his keel bone and then around to the back of his cowl, and then pressed her lips to his mouth in a brief kiss. The soft smile on her face made his heart flutter and for a moment, he felt he couldn't breathe as she closed the distance between them again.

"I don't care about that, Garrus." The words were a breath that whispered across his cheeks and his eyes fell closed of their own accord. "I want _you_, not anyone else."

Her words should have encouraged him, should have assuaged the uncertainty he felt—they were the words he'd always wanted to hear—but they didn't. This was his best friend; a woman who, admittedly, he had fallen in love with, but a woman whom he had also mourned. What happened when she was gone again? He wasn't so naïve to think they would live forever—it was very possible they could die tomorrow— yet, part of him didn't want to ruin the friendship they'd had and finally begun to repair. Just a few hours ago, they had been at each other's throats, barely speaking to each other. And now… now he was holding her in his arms and she was letting him; she was trailing her fingers around his neck and he was responding to her touch. Spirits, he hadn't even realized how much he had missed her over the past few days, and now, knowing what it felt like to have her in his arms—to have his greatest friend back—could he risk this? What if this didn't work? What if something happened to her? He couldn't stand to lose her again, not now, not after all of this. Even more, he couldn't bear the thought of possibly losing her so soon after finally having her to himself. And she seemed to sense his uncertainty.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," she said gently, leaning away from him, "I understand if this—" She gestured vaguely toward herself and the cabin "—is too much." But he tightened his arms around her and gave a small shake of his head.

"There's nothing more I could want in the universe than to be with you right now, but… Spirits." He sighed quietly and dropped his forehead to rest against hers; he had done it once before without thinking, when they were both too warm with drink to care, and just as she had then, Shepard returned the gesture. It was simple—just a small movement—but it sent a jolt of desire through him and he could feel his pelvic plates begin to loosen despite his worries. "But you're about the only friend I have left in this screwed up galaxy and—"

She covered his mouth with one finger, effectively silencing him. "And I'm not going anywhere," she finished for him. Days spent doubting the possible survival of their friendship had been the hardest she had faced since her resurrection, and she wasn't going to let something like an awkward morning-after put it in jeopardy again. "No matter what happens."

In his head, he knew she couldn't promise that, but his heart clung to that possibility with unfounded desperation. He would trust her, like he always had, and pray that she was right, as she always seemed to be. She had been right about Saren, about the Reapers, and—he could finally admit—about Sidonis… She had to be right about this. "Ok."

Shepard leaned back, her arms still wrapped loosely around his neck, as he hesitantly trailed his hands down to the top of her pants, nervously fussing with the button; he hadn't felt this out of his element in years. She was giving him a chance to show her… everything that he felt—giving them a chance—and, Spirits, was he worried he'd mess it up. He finally managed to undo the button and his talons skimmed along the skin of her hips, scratching lightly at the tops of her thighs as he pushed her pants down her legs. Even the light pressure left faintly stinging red lines across her skin and she felt him hesitate as they appeared.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out quickly, pulling his hands from her body with a look of fear. Spirits, he had never realized she was _that_ delicate… If even a touch that light could mar her skin… Spirits, he could kill her if he wasn't careful. He couldn't… He couldn't risk that, he couldn't put her in danger. In danger… How could she put herself in danger when it took so little to hurt her? He couldn't help the surge of protectiveness that ran through him; yes, he had felt driven to protect her before, but now… Could he keep her safe, when he had already had her in his scope, when it was his hands that could tear her open?

Shepard looked down, following his regretful look, and traced one of the faint marks with her own finger. The skin tingled, but the marks had already begun to fade and she looked back up to him, taking each of his hands in hers. He regarded her skeptically as she replaced his hands on her body, replying, "It doesn't hurt, Garrus. See? They're already gone. Relax." She could say the same thing to herself—her nerves were a mess and her body felt like a livewire—but more than her own pleasure, she wanted to make sure that he was happy. And he couldn't be happy if he was looking at her like she was a china doll that he was scared to break.

"I can't… Shepard, I _can't_ hurt you, I couldn't live with myself if…" He stopped himself. He'd been worried he'd be too strange for her, but she'd assuaged that doubt; he hadn't even thought about the idea that he could _hurt_ her. Even if she was interested in him—which she seemed to be if the way she had been kissing him was any indication—how could he risk hurting her? Even if their friendship survived—or, Spirits, if their friendship grew into something else—would he be able to protect her, from what he could do to her? He was supposed to keep her safe, not harm her. A low keen came from his chest as he sighed. "I don't know if you would be safe. And I don't know if I could be careful enough not to hurt you." There, he'd said it. Admitting that he wasn't sure of his ability to control himself around her was… hard. Yes, he had known being with her—being with any non-turian woman—was different but… This was Shepard. That fact alone changed everything.

Her fingers traced up to the tender skin below his fringe and he purred, leaning into the contact as she spoke, seeking any indication, any reassurance that she wanted him there with her, despite the danger. "Then we'll go slow. I trust you not to hurt me, and I would tell you if I didn't like something. Deal?"

And yet he still had his doubts. Why would she take all of this risk, put up with all of these issues, when it was clear she could have anyone she chose? "Are you sure about this, Shepard? About… me? I'm not… I don't think I'll be able to stop if this…" He didn't mean to sound so unsure, but the worry wouldn't stop nagging him. _Why me? What have I done to deserve this?_

"Garrus, I don't want anyone else. I want someone I can trust, someone I _do_ trust." She stepped back to kick off her pants, but when she moved to close the distance between them again, he kept her at arms' length. She blushed all the way down her neck as he stood there, simply looking at her, and went to cover herself with her hands again, but he stopped her.

"Don't, please." More than anything, he wanted to burn the memory into his mind—the memory of Shepard as a person, a woman, in front of him, not as a soldier and commander, but as a lover and a friend—and for a few moments, he only looked at her, studying every line, every feature, every scar. Absently, he traced the faded line across her abdomen where she'd been injured in the Battle of the Citadel and she shivered. So much of her was exposed, so much skin… How could humans survive with no natural protection? When they could feel even the slightest touch? Could he even risk it, when he could so easily tear her apart? Spirits, he couldn't bear it if he hurt her when he was trying to show her how much he cared about her, how much he loved her.

"Garrus?" she finally asked, uncertainty sneaking into her voice as she looked up at him through the uneven edge of her hair. Even in the low light, the bright green color of her eyes shone and Garrus found himself deciding it might be his favorite color.

"I just want something to go right," he finally managed, forcing the words past the tightness in his throat, "I don't want to mess this up."

She reached toward his face again and he let her, blinking in mild surprise as she lifted his visor from his face and placed it gently on the coffee table beside them. "You can't."

Two words. Two very simple words. Yet they held so much weight for Garrus that he couldn't help the way his posture relaxed as he stepped toward her again. His hands were tentative on her waist, feather light over her skin as they trailed down and stopped at the hem of her panties; he trilled a wordless question and she smiled, nodding her permission. The simple cotton was torn away and tossed somewhere into the recesses of her cabin, leaving her entirely bare; he reached around her, wrapping his arms across her back and pulling her close to him again, before she had the chance to be embarrassed. He didn't want her worrying about what he thought about her, what she looked like to him, when all he wanted to do was show her how much he cared about her. Her skin was cool against his plates, and soft, and he dipped his face to nuzzle her neck tenderly while his hands gently stroked the curve of her waist; she trembled as his breath wafted over her pulse point, clinging to him tighter.

Shepard tilted her head to give him more access and let her hands wander across his shoulders. His plates were rough against her skin, the friction causing shudders to run up her spine; her nipples tightened into peaks as her breasts where pressed up against his chest and a burst of warmth hit her core when his knee pressed in between her legs, her calf tracing the edge of his spur. It was alien and new, but she found she liked it. It felt… right. She felt his hands run up her back as her own smoothed down his arms, and he pulled away from her, dipping his head down to meet her gaze. Shepard felt her heart jump to her throat, its rhythm faltering as he stared at her with unveiled desire.

"Show me," he asked quietly, "how to touch you."

Oh. Shepard swallowed, taking one of his hands in both of hers, and backed toward her bed until she felt the mattress against the back of her knees. As gracefully as she could, she sat and inched back until she was leaning against the pillows; Garrus followed her down, his eyes locked on to hers like a man hypnotized as she made her way up the bed, and he crawled so he was settled beside her. His hands itched to touch her, to explore the unfamiliar planes of her body, but in an exercise of will, he kept his eyes on her face and his hands still by his side, clenched into fists against the sheets.

"Show me," he entreated her again when she glanced down, not meeting his gaze and chewing on her lip. No one had ever asked her how she wanted to be touched, or treated… She felt him cradle her chin in his hand and let her gaze swing back to meet his; he gently traced the line of her mouth with his thumb, freeing her lip from her teeth. He could feel the gentle brush of her tongue as a quiet breath escaped her and brought his face down to nuzzle her cheek as he let his hand trail along her jaw and down her neck. "Please, Jane." He paused, feeling the pound of her heart just below her skin, before purring and exploring lower; she rolled her shoulders backwards and tilted her head to the side, exposing more of her skin to his fingers. A wave of goose bumps followed the graze of his talons and he stilled his hands just above her breasts, watching as her chest rose and fell with each breath.

"There," she breathed as he reached the swell of her breast, covering his hand with her own and pulling it down a few more inches until his palm cupped her flesh.

He had never realized how small human's hands were by comparison, and yet now he saw as her smaller hand covered his, guiding him over her body. She gasped as the rougher pads of his fingers brushed the darker, taut peak of her breast and his hand froze; he hadn't realized how closely he had been watching where she led him until his attention was jerked back to her face—a thrill of fear running through him—but the darkened lust in her hooded eyes pushed any doubt out of his mind and he gave a pleased rumble. He flicked his thumb over her nipple again, earning another breathy gasp as the sharp tips of his talons trailed over the sensitive flesh. But she moved his hand along before he could explore her chest any further, down over her ribs, over her hips to the tops of her thighs and he gladly took the opportunity to savor the slide of her skin beneath his hands. He could feel the slight tremor of muscle under her skin as his talons skimmed along the inside of her leg, the minute shudder that went through her as she bit her lip to muffle her sigh of pleasure. Her grip had gone lax, but now he could see that she wasn't so different from asari—more responsive, perhaps, but the terrain was similar—and gently, carefully, let a knuckle trace along her heated core. What he hadn't expected was to find her wet and hot to the touch and—The scent reached his nose and his growl dropped in pitch; he hadn't expected her arousal to be so apparent and he found it excited him even more as a quiet moan escaped her. He looked back up to her face as he stroked his knuckle down her slit again and watched as her lips parted in a throaty sigh, her eyes closing and her head falling back on the bed. He growled, his mandibles flaring out, and inhaled her scent, turning his eyes back to her soft folds. Another careful stroke and he found the pebbled bundle of nerves at the apex and she all but melted as a ragged moan escaped her.

"Just like that, oh fuck… Garrus." A stream of incoherent moans and sighs intermingled with curses and he could feel her arch under his attentions. It was a boost to his pride to see her coming undone under his hands and, filled with a new boldness, he bent his head to trace his tongue over the sensitive bud of her nipple. She gasped, her hands flying up to grip his head as he rolled the peak carefully between his teeth; the slight pinpricks of pain were lost in the haze of ecstasy and he rumbled in response as her fingers tightened on his fringe. He leaned away from her for a moment, feeling his erection slide free of his plates to press against the side of her thigh and she huffed out a breath. "Where the hell did you learn that?" she demanded, but it was shaky and he could see just how much he had affected her: her cheeks were flushed and she almost seemed to glow in the low light, and the smell… He smiled inwardly, proud that, despite his nervousness, she seemed to appreciate his efforts.

"If I ever got the chance…" Garrus gave the slightest shrug and she gave and amused shake of her head, tugging him so he was hovering over her. He looked down at her, watching as the corners of her eyes turned up with her smile, seeing the soft, wet tip of her tongue flick out to moisten her lips—just watching her as if he feared she'd vanish in the next moment. Spirits, what had he done to deserve her?

"You've got your chance," she informed him, eyes sparkling as a smile pulled at her swollen lips, and hitched a leg up over his hip. The movement pressed his cock against her wet heat and he groaned, resisting the sudden, desperate need to be inside her; he didn't want to seem over eager, like it was merely physical, yet this was a moment he had imagined so many times and forced himself to forget before the idea could form, and now… Now it was real; the feel of her skin as his hand trailed up to grip her hip was proof of that.

His first thrust forward was jerky and harder than he had intended, his nerves getting the better of him; for an instant, he worried that he had hurt her, yet the sound she made as she threw her head back was better than any music he'd ever heard. She gasped as his length pressed against her inner walls, not out of pain, but out of… want and he clenched his jaws shut to try and stifle the raw desire that coursed through him. He withdrew slowly as he studied her intently; every breath, every tremor, every minute reaction, he wanted to remember. Spirits knew if he would ever have the chance to see her this way again, to have her this way again… If they would be alive to try. But he wanted to know what every gasp and moan meant, what she liked, what drove her wild. He rocked forward again, sheathing himself fully in her warmth, the base of his member stretching her open as he pressed in to the hilt. His eyes drifted from her face, where he watched her mouth open in a breathless gasp, to her chest, where her breasts bounced when he thrust in the last inch. He forced his eyes back up to her face, by some power forcing himself not to give in to the desire to watch as her folds surrounded his length, and found her eyes again, heavily lidded and gazing at him through a fog of want. He pulled out before pressing back in and she bucked her hips up to meet him this time, one of her hands clenching in the sheets as the other scrambled for something to anchor her above her head.

Shepard was almost surprised by the moan that slipped from her lips when he first entered her, and she could see a flash of worry cross his face before it vanished, appeased by her response, no doubt. And she found that she desperately wanted him to do it again. His second push was more controlled and slower and she met his eyes as he pulled out of her, his mandibles opened slightly as he watched her expression; he pushed into her again and she thrust back against him, knuckles whitening as she gripped the edge of the headboard. His grip on her hip tightened, changing the angle of her body just enough so her hips hovered inches above the mattress, and she gave a quiet whimper, a wordless plea not to stop.

Garrus flexed his fingers against her hip, forcing his grip to loosen lest he hurt her. But, oh, that sound… Did she realize what she was saying, what that meant to him? His free hand trailed along her waist, feeling the flutter of her abdominal muscles beneath her skin as she squirmed against him. From a turian woman, it was surrender—an admission of defeat and plea for him to do whatever he wanted with her—and the very thought of Shepard begging him, giving herself to him, drew a low growl from his chest.

Shepard tried to shift her body and thrust against him again—anything to make him _move_—and bit down another whimper. "Please, Garrus." If anyone ever asked her if she'd begged, she would fervently deny it, but at that moment, she just wanted him to take her, and hard. "I need you…" she pleaded, looking up at him and meeting his eyes as his thrusts faltered momentarily. Need didn't even begin to cover what she was feeling, but it was the only word she could coherently form; almost as strong as the hot lust building inside her as he filled her completely, was the fervent need to know that this was actually Garrus—her best friend—looking just as desperate as she felt.

In all of his wildest dreams, this moment would never have occurred to him, and yet there he was, Shepard underneath him and begging him to fuck her. His thrusts faltered for a second, trying to force a desperate breath into his lungs, as he looked down at her eyes and saw her raw desire. Need…if only she knew how much that word meant to him. He'd give her everything—his body, his heart, anything she could ask for, anything she needed; anything to make sure he didn't lose her again. He pulled back, almost completely out of her and thrust back in again, making her cry out and throw her head back against the pillows. His translator couldn't catch the words tumbling from her lips, yet the desperation and unfettered need in them spurred him on and he picked up a steady rhythm. He could see a fine sheen of sweat beginning to bead on her body, a drop sliding down to the hollow of her throat and he bent to taste the trail it left. That made her shiver and arch against him, her hand leaving the sheets to grip his shoulder tightly.

Shepard was seeing stars as he thrust steadily into her over and over, hitting the spot inside her that was _just right_… His tongue followed the line of her throat and she reached for him without thinking, a shudder of delight running down her spine as her hand met his shoulder; she held on as if it were her lifeline, incoherent pleas and encouragement leaving her in a rush. It was beginning to get harder and harder to keep her thoughts together as they threatened to fall apart with the rest of her.

Her body was tight and warm and just… perfect as he pumped in and out, trying desperately to reign in the desire to push her legs up over his shoulders and pound her into the mattress. Over and over he told himself no, he wasn't some rutting recruit between missions, and she wasn't some quick stress relief, but the way she squeezed him _just so_… His grip on her hip tightened and relaxed rhythmically, his brain battling with his hormones to be careful with her as his other hand trailed down between them, seeking out the bundle of flesh he had found before that had made her almost crumble. The first pass the pad of his finger made over the nerves had her gasping, prompting him to circle the sensitive nub as he sped up his rhythm. He watched as she started writhing underneath him, her chest heaving and the muscles in her stomach flexing in time with his strafes; by some force of will, he pushed back his own desire and building climax for a moment, wanting to watch her come apart under his hands, wanting to bring her as much pleasure as he possibly could.

Whoever had taught him what the clitoris was, and just how to touch it, deserved a medal Shepard decided just before her mind went blank; she gasped and tried to buck against his hand, but his grip on her hip held her still as he kept pushing her on. Damn it, if he kept doing that, she wasn't going to—

She screamed his name as her orgasm crashed over her, every muscle in her body tightening, and for a moment she wasn't aware of anything except the pound of her heart and the pleasant tingle of her limbs. But Garrus snarled, feeling her body clench around him and _Spirits_, it was almost too much; he shifted her leg higher and planted his hand above her head on the bed, thrusting into her harder than he had ever intended. Some small part of his mind screamed to be careful, and yet in the haze of lust, he was deaf to it; instead, he continued to plunge down into her, frantically chasing his own release. Her inner walls clenched down on his member and his fingers gripped her hip, clinging to her like he would if she were a woman of his own species as he thrust into her once more, his climax finally hitting him hard.

Shepard could feel his talons bite into the skin of her hip and she inhaled sharply through her teeth, but the way he finally let go, surging into her without a second thought as she rode out the aftershocks of her own peak, sent a fresh wave of blissful satisfaction through her. He drove his hips forward one final time, throwing his head back and roaring in pleasure as he held her hips in place, burying himself in her fully, his warm cum filling her. After a few seconds, his grip on her hip loosened and he bowed his head, still panting hard, and his brow plates met her forehead. Their eyes met, even as Shepard struggled to keep her exhausted eyelids open; she looked so at ease.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, just looking at her face and feeling every residual quiver of her core, not wanting to pull out of her warmth quite yet—just wanting to keep holding her, to stay in her arms, inside her for as long as the galaxy would let him. He couldn't count how many times he had thought about what it would feel like to be with her, and now that it was over… he found he didn't want it to be over quite yet. But he felt her hips shift uncomfortably after a moment and he slowly withdrew from her with care, settling down beside her with a huff. He tentatively curled his arm around her waist and tugged her close to his chest, nuzzling his face into the dip between her neck and shoulder, smelling her skin, her sweat, and her arousal, all mixed in with the scent of their coupling, before pulling back to look at her.

Shepard turned to gaze at him happily, a sleepy smile pulling at her lips, and she planted a light kiss on his brow as her exhaustion finally caught up with her and her eyelids began to droop. Her breathing slowed down, becoming more regular as her eyes closed, and Garrus propped himself up on one elbow, watching the rise and fall of her chest. He took another breath, hoping to commit her scent to memory, but he suddenly became very away of the scent of blood in the air. Panicking, he pushed himself up more and searched frantically until his eyes found the fresh cuts on her hip, angry and bleeding as she turned on her side to snuggle her back against him.

"Spirits, Shepard, I'm sorry, I—"

She blinked her eyes opened and groggily turned her head, looking over her shoulder and meeting his anguished eyes. She followed the path of his gaze down her body, finally resting her eyes on the deep scratches covering her hip. Oh. Her fingers traced the already-scabbing wounds and she shrugged lightly before looking back to his face. The look of absolute despair in his eyes made her shake her head and she pushed herself up to kiss his cheek lightly.

"I get shot at on a daily basis, Garrus. A couple scratches are no big deal," she said, hoping that he'd believe her. She didn't want him beating himself over something as small as a couple scratches, yet she knew better than to hope for that. She knew him.

"Shepard, you said you'd... tell me, you'd stop me… Why—" he choked on the words, as his eyes roamed over her hip again, "Why didn't you say something? I... Spirits, I hurt..." He trailed off into a wordless warble and looked away from her.

She turned on her back so she could look at him more fully and gently reached up to cup his mandible, turning his face back to hers. "Garrus, it's fine, I promise. I barely felt it, so please don't worry?" she said. "You'll see; they'll be gone by morning." She turned over again, pulling him back down with her and pressing her back up against his carapace, resting her head in the crook of his arm.

But Garrus could only stare at her as she laid her head back down. How could she not be upset? He had marked her, drawn blood, _hurt_ her, and she... didn't care. Here she was, still lying in his arms, with her back pressed up against him nonetheless—something that wasn't lost on him; turians didn't typically turn their backs to other people, especially when they were vulnerable in sleep. How could she trust him—even more significantly, in her sleep—after he'd injured her when they were intimate? He'd hurt her. He'd done the one thing he had been scared of, and she wasn't even angry with him.

He was disgusted with himself for losing control like that, for putting his own pleasure before her safety. Would she still forgive him in the morning after the post-coital bliss wore off? When she woke up with a clear head? He gently trailed his fingers over her hip, careful to not touch the scratches, a low keen coming from the back of his throat as he looked at the marks. But she simply curled into him a little more, shifting one of her legs so it was tangled in between his legs. He watched her sleep for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her shoulders before turning his gaze to her face; she was smiling lightly, all the lines by her eyes erased and her brow no longer creased with worry. She looked genuinely at peace. Maybe... maybe she was actually okay, maybe she was right. And he'd be lying if he said it hadn't been one of his—No, it was his greatest memory. Maybe she felt the same way. Spirits, if she felt anything like he did—with her head resting on his arm, her hair in his face, and his fingers wrapped around the side of her waist—he'd count himself the luckiest male in the galaxy. With a small smile, barely a twitch of his mandibles, he gently bumped his forehead against her temple before lying down behind her, focusing on the steady rhythm of her breathing.

She was really here.

"Good night, Jane."

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